Recently IÂ’ve learnt I have concrete feet. I've an anchor holding me down. Through the swings of ups and downs IÂ’ve been having, IÂ’m wobbling in my weeble worldÂ…but IÂ’m not falling down.

And itÂ’s frightening as shit.

And it feels great.

I talk quietly on the couch to the guy with the keys to my brain. I tell him of the highs I have-the giddy nearly consuming love of Christmas IÂ’m experiencing. I tell him how easily it is to make me tumble from that high, to send me back to the couch in a haze of chilly grey. I come clean about Elf, and how many times I watch it on however many formats I can get my hands on.

He tells me itÂ’s all ok.

And the truth is, maybe it is. Maybe the truth of the matter is, I havenÂ’t been feeling so much for so very long. Highs seem to high to me simply because I havenÂ’t been up, not up thatÂ’s this up, not up thatÂ’s this ok, forÂ…well, I donÂ’t really know. IÂ’m not manic, IÂ’m not depressive, but I am uncharacteristic. I tell him I worry what will happen after Christmas-what do I latch on to? What gets me out of depression? Is it me, am I strong enough to get myself out?

There is much work to be done still. I am still stunningly un-opinionated about almost everything. I am still unable to master conflict, I am still afraid, and afraid a lot more than I let on.

But there are things I have learnt.

The biggest of which is the simple notion that I am ok.

ItÂ’s as difficult and as complicated as that.

Deep down inside I am profoundly and completely ok. ItÂ’s the layers of self-defense, protection, fear, and anger that block me from getting there. IÂ’ll get there at some point, IÂ’m sure. IÂ’m relearning a lot, most of it difficult, some of it painful, all of it revolutionary.

IÂ’ve passed the grieving, too. What happened was bad, it was the worst ever, but itÂ’s behind me now. Now, thereÂ’s forward. ThereÂ’s going on, to whatever on is.

Life is rocky sometimes, but I have concrete feet.

Thanksgiving, wellÂ…Thanksgiving dinner itself was great fun (pics to be uploaded, hopefuly tomorrow). We had an argument before it that lasted the majority of the day and left when people arrived. We had a full house for dinner and all of them loved the new living room and the re-painted kitchen. IÂ’d taken extreme pains to dress up a table and I was pleased I did-something about a nice table makes you feel good.

And when it was time to go around the table and list-as we always do-what we were thankful in 2006, I thought about it and came to clear conclusions-I am so incredibly thankful for the house we have. IÂ’m thankful for my love, love, love Angus, even when we argue. IÂ’m incredibly thankful for Gorby the Wonder Dog. I'm thankful for our travels, including my most relaxing holiday yet.

But I realized what I was most thankful for at Thanksgiving was this: 2006 is almost over. The tumultuous year is drawing to an end. I had many wonderful things to love about it, and one single event that overtook my life in every way possible. ThereÂ’s still December to go, but I canÂ’t be sure that thereÂ’s anything dramatic that will overtake the drasticness that has been 2006. Yes, I am over it. It doesn't mean I want to sit at the table next to it anymore.

So my thankful this year is simple: I love so much of my life, but IÂ’ll be glad when 2006 is gone. 2007 and I have big hopes for each other.

Me and my concrete feetÂ…we can do this.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:00 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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Thanksgiving Thursday started off with a mammoth trek, a journey that I canÂ’t stand, a huge chunk of my life spent just trying to get to the place that I call Upper Buttfuck, a village far, far away from where I life but where the company has offices. I hate going there-itÂ’s a dog to get to and from, and the meetings I have there are never rewarding (perhaps because I need an attitude adjustment about going there, I dunno.) It takes me four hours to get there, and thatÂ’s if the connections are good-IÂ’ve had a few episodes where failed trains and shoddy tube service made for a much longer travel time.

For me it was especially bitter as it was Thanksgiving Day-a day like any other in my adopted home country, a day that no one thinks of or thinks about. Thanksgiving is the anniversary of when I left the States for Europe 7 years ago, and it is the one day of the year when I am racked with homesickness so severe that all I can do is build myself up in a cocoon on the couch, armed with “Home For the Holidays”, wine, pajamas, and homemade macaroni and cheese. I tend to cry on Thanksgiving. I read and refresh American news websites with the religious fervor of a child revising a Christmas list to Santa.

But no. Thanksgiving would (as per the norm) be celebrated on Saturday with friends. On Thanksgiving Thursday I packed up and went to Upper Buttfuck. It was a first meeting for me on the project IÂ’m taking on in a few more weeks (my boss wonÂ’t let me switch jobs just yet). I would at least get to meet some of the team in a two-day workshop.

Two days in Upper ButtfuckÂ…ergo my Thanksgiving included a stay overnight in a hotel.

The journey there was unremarkable although it took forever. I snagged my tights (as I usually do, tights have a short shelf-life in my home). I made it there in time. I managed to steal one of the LAN ports for a connection (but this is only to my work email (whose number of unread mails now tops somewhere around 6,000), as my work, they have blocked damn near every site imaginable to man.) The meeting commenced.

And I could see-already-that the project was going to be just as much a battle as the previous one was.

That night I went to my hotel room-the hotel was actually really nice, and all I wanted was to lock myself in it for the night. The group was going out for a curry and I didnÂ’t mean to be anti-social, I just knew I couldnÂ’t do it. I needed solitude and quiet. I was tired, having gotten up at 5:30 am just to get to the meeting on time. I wanted to get some macaroni and cheese, take a bath, and be alone. Angus helped me ring around to find somewhere that would serve it up, and I walked in the cold and wintery darkness towards an Italian place that could do something similar. On the way there I passed a place that served Cajun/Mexican food, and I knew that had to be a done deal, so I had a margarita and polished off some fajitas alone.

Then I walked back to the hotel, ordered a bottle of wine at the bar, and the pinot grigio, the bathtub, and the Milan Kundera I had brought along and I all got acquainted. I watched some TV (while texting Angus) and then I turned in early. I padded a flank of pillows around me and opened the window to the sea air. I went to sleep.

Somewhere around two am a screaming frightening alarm went off. It startled me so badly I sat up and flew right out of myself, which I have to be honest-even though I battle to be so fucking mentally well, it felt great to be outside for a little while. In my foggy haze I realize itÂ’s the fire alarm going off, and a fire alarm at 2 am is likely no joke. I grab my purse and throw a coat on over the T-shirt and the pair of AngusÂ’ boxers that IÂ’d grabbed at last minute. Completely forgetting about shoes, I made my way out of my room and bumped into a man who looked like he was similarly dozy, wearing jeans with the fly open and a shirt buttoned wrong. We make our way down the stairs, meeting others like ourselves-some in clothes, some in pajamas, one smart chick whoÂ’d brought a robe, and all of us looking like weÂ’d been woken out of a sound sleep.

Once in the lobby, the desk clerk has us wait there while he confirms that the fire alarm is unfounded. The alarm is getting louder and more panicked in sound, and I continue to reign supremely outside of myself. When the clerk finally turns off the alarm, itÂ’s revealed it was a door that was wrongly wired to the fire alarm that had set it all off. We troop back upstairs to our rooms.

I vow to bring pajama pants with me to all hotels in the future.

I also am unable to go back to sleep.

I twist and turn and divvy about in the bed for some time before finally drifting off.

Time to wake up comes in no time, and I shower and head down for a fantastic breakfast in the hotel breakfast room. I pack up, catch a cab, and get back to the office-I have conference calls before the meeting starts, and I need to check to see if the balloons got to fly at the MacyÂ’s Day Parade or not (apparently they did, just lower altitudes).

The meeting is contentious in many ways. I can't really get into it, but suffice to say it appears I have gone from one of those kind of projects to one of those kind of projects.

I am so de-motivated, fucked-off, and dreading the journey home that I leave at noon.

I get on step 1 of the journey (a train) and settle in-the train is running late, and running slow to boot. I buy a bottle of Diet Coke and get out my Blackberry. At the next station a man gets in and sits next to me. He is drinking from a beer can and holding his sweatpants on with his hand. His shoes are falling off. He smiles at me, and I see he’s missing the majority of his teeth. I smile back and keep typing on my Blackberry, which is the international sign for “seriously, I don’t want to talk, I’m busy and anyway Brick Breaker is more fun than anything you might have for me” but he turns to me anyway.

“Nice weather, huh?” he asks me.

And oh my God sweet Jesus munchkinsÂ…it smells like something has crawled into his mouth and died.

I literally gag back bile. I nod and go back to my Blackberry, dreaming of air freshener.

“Do you have kids?” the Death Eater breathes. “I don’t have kids, which is strange, as in my family children are hereditary.”

I smile. IÂ’m pretty sure the man has no idea what heÂ’s talking about, but I donÂ’t care, I just want the world to stop. He keeps talking. I get out lavender body lotion and rub it all over my face and hands to try to block out his smell. It doesnÂ’t work.

Luckily he gets off at the next stop. I see that the Diet Coke I had been drinking was actually sat under him, and I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would rather die of dehydration than touch that thing. Once again I look at where he was and think: They're going to have to burn the seats.

I get to London, take the tube, then get on another train. I am heading home, free and clear, trying to get through this nightmare called ThanksgivingÂ…and when I get home, Angus and I have an argument.

So really. Thanksgiving Thursday was stellar. Fucking great holiday of 2006.

-H.

More on Thanksgiving Day (observed) tomorrow.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:12 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Lauren has asked for help compiling a list of things that women can use as a general resource, a how-to to help ourselves. There are several topics that I have no idea how to help on, but a few that I do-2 of them I'll address here.

Home remedies, I have a few of-

For stomach upsets, take some peppermint candies. Seriously. Peppermint seriously aids digestion and helps break things down in the stomach, so if you're suffering acid reflux, indigestion, or IBS symptoms and you haven't any Tums-type tablets to hand, pop a peppermint.

Peppermint is also fantastic for preventing ant bites. I learnt this in Texas, as I was working on an archaeological site that was infested with fire ants, which I'm seriously allergic to. If you get a peppermint oil from any health food store and mix it with a bottle of the cheap diffuser that they sell, rub it on any parts that might get exposed to the fire ants. Voila-they won't bite. Fire ants) and ants in general) don't do peppermint.

For a severe cut, if you haven't got any antibiotic ointment in the house and the cut has that nasty "I'm getting infected ooze, put on a small amount of honey. Honey is the miracle cure all, actually-it helps wounds, helps digestion, and there is something to the "hot tea and honey" when you have a cold.

The other topic I can (sadly) help with is how to leave an abusive relationship. I've got the approach on how to handle it if there are no children involved, and I know it's harder if there are kids, only I haven't been in that scenario, and I'm afraid I don't know as much to help.

If your partner is abusive or threatening in any way, there are a number of things you can do to protect yourself. I'm not going to go on about getting your revenge, fighting back, etc, because women in those situations know it's about getting through the other side, not about getting your own. First off, if you've realized it's time to go, then good for you.

Second, if there is anything special to you in the home that you want to take with you, quietly start putting things in a place he won't notice. This is only for little things-that picture of your grandmother, your oldest stuffed toy. If it's a big item, leave it where it is. Better yet, get the things out of the house if they won't be missed-leave them with someone you trust beyond trust, or even in the trunk of your car.

When you leave abusive men, you will never see any of these possessions again. Take what you know you can never forgive yourself for losing. The rest is replacable-linens, books, kitchen ware...it's not worth it.

When it's time to leave, then leave. Quickly. Quietly. Pack up any papers that you have-especially a utility bill, as it will prove that you have credit for when you're on your own. Get to a safe place, be it friends, family, or a shelter. If you have a pet you love beyond life itself, shuffle them into the car with you, as you're otherwise likely never see them again. If you've managed to squirrel money away into a private account then password it. Don't tell anyone the password. If you've got a joint credit card account and you want to keep it, password that, too, then your soon-to-be ex can't touch it. If it's joint and you need to get off the account, call them and report your card stolen, and tell them you don't want another card-unless you opened the account you cannot take yourself off the account, only he (the owner) can. Reporting your card stolen keeps your ex from charging up a balance and claiming you did it.

I know all of this first hand.

It took me years to pay off the credit card debt on one card he "left" me.

If your ex has been abusive physically or you suspect he might get that way, get to a police station. Do not feel you are wasting their time. Do not even debate that you are making too much of a little thing. Go and file for a protective order. This is significant-you don't want a restraining order, as they are not enforcable by police. You want a protective order, which means if your ex comes within X feet (usually 50) of you, the police can arrest them. Now, I filed my protective order in the state of Texas, so if rules in other states are different then I apologize, I don't know how other states work, but this at least is a basis for getting protected.

If you are able to get your own place quickly, take the following steps: When hooking up the phone, you want to be unpublished, not unlisted. Unpublished means not even the operator can see your address, unlisted means that a call to the directory means your ex could find someone apathetic enough to give out your address. Get caller ID installed-this is a fee that most companies charge a very small amount for, but it's worth it. Get a mobile phone-a very basic package will do you, but you must always have a means of communication for a while.

Get a home alarm installed, and make sure that it is wired directly into a company that will ring the police if your alarm goes off. These companies usually waive the fee accompanied with this service if you explained you are running from an abusive relationship. Get a password on the account, and make sure it's one he'd never think of.

I did all of this, and included the dog and the shotgun, but those are maybe steps too far.

Password each and every one of your accounts, even utilities (a truly good and vindictive ex will get your electricity shut off if he wants to. I myself remember an evening in the dark.) Change your patterns-abusive men are insecure men, and they will try to find you. Do not take the same routes to get to your new residence. Do not go to the same shops. Do not even debate going back to the house for anything-everything you have taken with you is all that you will probably have. Do not use the same vet for your pet. Do not tell people where you have moved, unless it is someone you know without question you can trust. Try to move to an apartment complex for a while, and make sure your apartment is smack in the middle of the complex, for safety.

A Tae Kwon Do course is a good idea-not that you need to become Rambo or anything, but a course like that starts to help you feel empowered, after a period of being knocked down. It does not make you the Karate Kid. It does give you back some confidence.

If you are leaving, there is no way you can be too paranoid until you know what his reaction is going to be.

And I am very, very sorry you've been through this.

I'm also very, very glad you're leaving.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 12:42 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 1208 words, total size 7 kb.

1 Hi there! Thanks for addressing domestic violence here. I work in the field and have a quick note on terminology. In some states in the US, protective orders are called "restraining orders," and there is no difference between the two. In other states, like the one where I live, they are two separate things (protective orders and harassment restraining orders) but both ARE enforceable by the police. The difference is that in many states, protective orders offer DV victims more protections than just "he must stay ___ feet away," such as temporary custody of the children, freezing shared bank accounts, removal of firearms from the home, etc. And also please know that if you receive a restraining/protective order in one municipality/county/state/tribal land in the United States, by federal law it IS supposed to be enforceable everywhere else. (Now, how that enforcement actually plays out across the nation is another story...) And a note to domestic violence victims-- leaving is definitely the most dangerous time for you. PLEASE talk to a battered women's program near you before you leave your abuser or even start taking steps towards doing so, so that they can help you do it as safely as possible. In the United States, victims can call the National Domestic Violence hotline at Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Posted by: Dasha at November 26, 2006 02:58 PM (JSn1O)

2 From someone who finally got the courage to leave nearly seven years ago... all I can say is thank you. I lost it all. But in doing so, I regained myself, my safety, and my future.

Posted by: April at November 26, 2006 03:58 PM (PFXpB)

3 Helen, thanks so much for writing this. Interested in hosting in the future?

Posted by: Lauren at November 26, 2006 04:18 PM (HwZpj)

4 Helen, I can add something to the telephone advice. Get a telephone recorder that automatically starts when you pick up the phone. If the violent spouse calls the woman and threatens her or uses any kind of threatening language, she has proof of it. The police told someone in my family that this is one of the best things to do to catch someone in criminal activity. She got hers at Radio Shack for about $60-70.

Posted by: kenju at November 27, 2006 12:43 AM (L8e9z)

5 All good advice. I cannot emphasize enough that you will not be bothering the police. There is nothing too small. Any police officer will tell you that he'd rather take a complaint that turns out to be nothing, then take your statement in the hospital.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 27, 2006 01:23 PM (jm+bg)

6 Thank you, Helen. I was expecting to write a comment just thanking you for the peppermint tip, 'cause I'm allergic, too... but the guide to getting out really touched me. Your strength is amazing.

Posted by: Marian at November 27, 2006 05:34 PM (HZ6LU)

7 Ginger— in any form— is also good for upset stomachs. As for leaving the abusive relationship, self-defense of any kind is a good idea, be it martial arts, or (I know this one won't be popular with a lot of people) firearms training. Just like the martial arts, the latter gives a sense of self-confidence, though any instructor worth his salt will NOT let someone out with a firearm half-trained. As to why I suggest it, I have read the accounts of many women who fled abusive relationships that later took up firearms training, and in many of those cases, just the KNOWLEDGE that the woman knew how to shoot was enough to deter a stalking ex. Don't ever discount the fact that abusers prefer easy victims— if you're no longer an easy target, they'll look elsewhere.

Posted by: B. Durbin at November 28, 2006 03:53 AM (tie24)

8 Helen, I have to thank you again for writing this up. This was one of my favorite (is that the word for a piece on abuse?) posts that was written for the carnival. Concise, complete. Thank you so much.

Posted by: Lauren at December 02, 2006 11:11 PM (HwZpj)

9 If one doesn't take the peppermint advice in advance, you can use a fresh basil leaf, crushed up so the juice comes out, on a fire ant bite. It works wonders. And the advice about an abusive relationship? Perfect. BTDT.

Posted by: trouble at December 04, 2006 03:56 PM (j2vfb)

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I'm off to a business meeting for two days in what I consider the remote wilderness of England.

I'll be thinking of Macy's Day parades, football, and the buzzing hum of Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:03 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 And you, too my friend. And to Angus and Gorby and Maggie and Mumin.

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 23, 2006 07:59 AM (r0kgl)

2 Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night! ...or something like that.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 23, 2006 03:13 PM (FKBK3)

3 Happy Thanksgiving to you, too! I will eat some turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and some of my mother-in-law's godawful pie for all Americans living abroad today. The eating of the pie? Is a BIG sacrifice, huge, but I will do it for you!

Posted by: jen-again at November 23, 2006 09:40 PM (QmzRL)

4 Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

Posted by: Marian at November 24, 2006 07:06 AM (BbFus)

5 Same to you & Angus and the lovely furred ones....

Posted by: Elizabeth at November 25, 2006 02:44 PM (GFKsB)

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I am not a very good friend.

It came to me a little while ago, when I realized that I had failed-I suck at being good. I'm terrible at being kind and supportive. I'm quite simply not what I should be.

What brought me to this?

I have a friend named Billie. Billie is a fellow IVF veteran, although her IVF dreams never got her to where she wanted to be. Billie is also someone that turned to me for help, and I wanted to help her-she'd asked me to go to the doctor's with her, to talk to him about her depression and her drinking. The doctor's visit never took place, because Billie decided she wanted to go to the doctor on her own.

Before she went, she got outrageously drunk.

The doctor-perhaps understandably-referred her to treatment and alcohol counseling. Billie did so, but upon insisting that drinking just masks the fact that she's depressed-it's not a drinking problem, it's depression-has been dismissed from the alcohol treatment program. And I used to be on board with her, I supported her. She could definitely stop anytime she wanted, I was in complete agreement with her. It's true, she drank a lot, and had a lot of after effects. Whenever she and her husband came over for a dinner party, without fail they would drink, and without fail they'd get drunk and things would get broken (glasses, and once? A chair.)

Billie has had it tough. She grew up fantastically wealthy but was cut off when she fell in love with a much older (and married) man. She and said man are together now, married, and despite IVF treatment, were unable to have children (and now are resigned that they will not have any children.) She and her husband ran a company and made a fortune, but when the stress took a toll on his health, they sold the company and now have very easy-going jobs, which unfortunately don't earn much. Their lifestyle has had to change drastically.

And she drinks, perhaps, to forget. To be happy. To feel light-hearted and giggly, for whatever amount of time she can. The fact that her husband's children (with his previous Mrs.) are now having children of their own must hurt like hell (and truthfully it's one of my fears for my own future). I completely understand it all, every step of the way-I too have had my own alcohol problem and, while I can cut back (and did), I accept that not everyone can (my cutting back does not make me a Super Person, either-there are many things I suck at, luckily limiting alcohol is one I succeeded at).

So Billie drinks. Billie's cute, she's lovely, she's a good friend. And when Billie drinks, she falls down a lot. Things get broken. And it's just something that she did, we just accepted it. We have a glass vase with dried hydrangeas that we hadn't hung up because should Billie come to our house, there was a good chance she'd have too much to drink and knock it off the wall. We worried about the plasma, as that would definitely get run in to.

Last year at Proms in the Park she got drunk. As in "falling down while ass exposed in Hyde Park" drunk. Angus wound up taking care of her while Lila and I managed all of our stuff and all four of us raced for the last train home. Many embarrassed apologies later, Billie swore it would never happen again.

This year at the Proms, Billie, Lila, Angus, and my Atlanta-newly-married friend Jim trekked off with far too much food and too much wine. We pitched up in a nice spot. We sat in the sun. And we started drinking.

Billie promised up and down she would not get drunk. She swore. She repeatedly stated that she'd not overdo it. There'd be no falling down.

Within a few hours, Billie had fallen down on two seperate occasions (one of them covering both herself and myself in ranch dressing, as she landed squarely in the salad bowl.)

Lila was in bits with stress that it would be like last year, taking care of Billie and managing all the stuff.

That didn't happen. Instead, it got a whole lot worse. Strapping Clydesdale Helen got strapped with carrying much of the kit (along with Lila) while Angus and Jim tried to manage the inebriated Billie. In the end, her drinking was too much for them-she fell down the escalator at Waterloo and ripped the back of her heel wide open. We caught the train and tried the best first aid we could, but knew that once she got home the local hospital would be getting a visit from her.

Tearfully, she kept asking if we were angry and if we still loved her. We all told her yes, we loved her. We did not tell her we were angry, but we were. On the train she picked a fight with someone who happened to look at her bloody ankle. She kept talking about how stressful her life was, how stressed she was. She talked about how depressed she was, how things weren't great.

I sat there in the seat ahead of her. I was still wearing a panty liner all those days after the miscarriage, as little droplets were still coming. I hadn't told her about the miscarriage-I wanted to meet her a few days before Proms in the Park to tell her, but she had a drinking do, so it never came up.

And you know...I couldn't be there for her.

When she got off the train, she fell again. She turned her ankle. She and Lila got into one taxi, Angus, Jim and I got into another.

I couldn't be there for her.

She went to hospital and got stitches. For her sprained ankle and her stitched one, she earned two weeks of bed rest.

I couldn't visit her.

In the midst of my September darkness, I found I was furious with her. I was bitterly angry that once again, she broke her word and once again fell down and needed us to look after her. We all drink, we all sometimes drink too much...but she's the only one that leaves a path of destruction in her wake.

And this makes me a terrible friend.

Actually? The truth is it makes me a terrible person.

She felt stupid, embarrassed, depressed, and stressed, and I couldn't be there for her.

We all met up a few weeks ago-Billie is somehow harder, tougher. There is something that somehow is broken between us. We are still friends but there is something changed between us-I wasn't there for her. She needed me, and all I had was blind anger and depression of my own.

She's coming for Thanksgiving. We're having Thanksgiving on Saturday, as we always do here. She's still a friend, I do still love her...but I just don't know what I'm going to do if she gets drunk.

We hung up the vase of flowers, anyway.

We hung the plasma on an exposed wall.

We are not going to Billie-proof our life.

But my friend-in my opinion-has a drinking problem. It's not up to me to solve it. But I crack a lot knowing I am not a good person-I couldn't be there for her. If she gets treatment, I'll try to be. I love her very much and care about her, but I couldn't support her that September night.

The truth is, I'm still angry.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:40 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
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1 In the end, you have to take care of yourself first or you'll be no help to anyone at all. September was a bad month for you, so I see no need for you to be quite so hard on yourself. I'd be angry too, frankly.

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at November 22, 2006 12:36 PM (igmiD)

2 Just because you're angry doesn't mean that you're a bad person. And you can be angry with your friends, it doesn't mean you're not friends any more. Self reflection is good, but might this not be going too far?

Posted by: Hannah at November 22, 2006 01:05 PM (mUdu9)

3 It doesn't make you a bad person. There is only that much you can do. Being there doesn't always solve the problem, as proven in one very enduring friendship I had. The help that will essentially makes things right is obviously not something you or her other friends and it is up to her to decide and deal it. Being drunk is probably just a way to mask the painful emotions/problems; unwillig or too scared to deal with it.

Posted by: Lisa at November 22, 2006 01:30 PM (wMkZ0)

4 You are not the one being a bad friend here. And there is nothing written anywhere that says you must enable your alcoholic friend and hold her hand after she shows her ass yet again in front of everyone. After repeated promises not to do so. Everyone gets drunk and does dumb stuff once and awhile. Not everyone does it on a weekly basis. If she gets drunk and wreaks havoc at your Thanksgiving party this year--call her a cab, wish her well, and screen your calls from now on. Last chance time.

Posted by: Teri at November 22, 2006 01:35 PM (K7jOL)

5 This does not make you a bad friend OR a bad person! My brother is an alcoholic and I beat myself up many times because I couldn't be there for him, it was just too hard. There is only so much we can do without destroying ourselves and that does not mean we are letting anyone down. I'm sorry for you, I know how hard this is. Marie

Posted by: Marie at November 22, 2006 01:36 PM (Rm+El)

6 You are not a bad friend. You might want to talk to her though, and share why you've been distant, She will not likely aknowledge you are right, or again give you excuses, but every time someone does this, lets her know she has lost somethng as a consequence to her drinking, it plants a seed of doubt in her. You can let her know you will be there for her when she is ready to get help.

Posted by: rose at November 22, 2006 02:11 PM (Eodj2)

7 I've been on both sides of this, and a) you're not a terrible friend - there's got to be a point where you have to let them work all that crap out on their own and not hang it on you to help them out - and b) you can't help a junkie (or drunk) unless they truly want the help. In my opinion, just from reading this, Billie's saying the right things, but she doesn't want to fix anything yet. Maybe some day, but not yet.

Posted by: amber at November 22, 2006 02:29 PM (5PLeA)

8 Parallel lives, m'dere. You're not a bad person. Billie needs therapy and you are not a therapist. You should never risk your own mental health for the sake of someone else's. If PB has taught me anything, it's that. Perhaps she's tulips where gardenias should grow.

Posted by: Ms. Pants at November 22, 2006 03:08 PM (r6SJw)

9 You are a wonderful person, you are in touch with how you feel, that is hard to accomplish! Please try not to feel bad for 'how' you feel, some things we cannot change, and how we feel is one of them. Happy Tday, go Cowboys! :-)

Posted by: Steff at November 22, 2006 03:23 PM (uKuUC)

10 Billie needs more help than anyone can give her. She needs to help herself. Without her own effort, external efforts are doomed to failure. It's not your job to love her unconditionally. A good friend would take Billie aside and have a heart to heart with her about her problems. Negotiate with Billie about what needs to happen. And then that good friend will walk away when all the promises lie broken, bleeding, and covered in ranch dressing on the floor. Maybe Billie won't be able to turn it around until she hits bottom, alone with her husband and her booze. Maybe she won't be able to turn it around even then. But Helen, you can't fix her. Be a good friend, it's okay to be angry with her, and it's also okay to walk away when you're done. The worst friend is the one that says it's all okay and secretly seethes because they don't have the guts to say something or walk away.

Posted by: Barnaby at November 22, 2006 03:29 PM (kaZ33)

11 Maybe everyone being so understanding is what is enabling her to keep destroying things. Maybe if everyone stopped being so understanding she could confront herslef and her own issues. There's a reason addicts only get help when they hit bottom. Save your forbearance for the long road she has to sobriety and the setbacks she will have in the journey. On the other hand, I too have never been any good at watching my loved ones crash-and-burn. But thats MY control issue. Hugs! And oh yeah, being mad at her doesnt make you a bad friend - not telling her how disappointed and mad you are might.

Posted by: That Girl at November 22, 2006 03:33 PM (oT4a3)

12 Don't be too hard on yourself over it; Billie doesn't need someone to be there for her so much as she desperately needs to abstain from alcohol. Any alcohol. Ever. It's just one of life's cruelties that some people cannot drink without drinking to excess every time, and it looks like she won that lottery. Besides, it's quite natural to be angry over the behavior of drunks. I could write books on it. For now, I guess there's nothing for me to do but pray for the health of your flower arrangement, and of course the plasma. Very sorry you're dealing with this.

Posted by: ilyka at November 22, 2006 07:46 PM (Sz1jV)

13 You can't always fix your friends. And at some point the friendship becomes too uneven, you're the caregiver, you're trying your hardest and when she doesn't meet you half way (or less than halfway in this case) there's nothing wrong in keeping your distance. These types of "friends" end up turning on you. Protect yourself, you don't need this at this point in your life. I'm so glad you're feeling better and stronger. Keep it up, we're all rooting for you! (But just so you know, if you land in my salad bowl more than once, I'm not meeting you at the hospital, either!)

Posted by: Oda Mae at November 22, 2006 08:53 PM (swPhx)

14 You are being a bit hard on yourself given that this has not been the easiest year for you. Perhaps when you are less emotional about it you can sit down and let her know how you want to help but it means meeting her halfway. She has to do the hard work--then you can be there for her. Many good wishes.

Posted by: sophie at November 22, 2006 09:31 PM (1HOa8)

15 There's little that I can add that hasn't been said already. Other than the fact that I agree with all the opinions spoken here. Perhaps Billie needs to know just how angry you are. To be told in a I'm-your-best-friend-and-I-love-you-but-you're-pissing-me-off type of way. That she seriously needs to get her life under control before something happens with nobody there to take care of her. And that you're tired of bailing her ass out only to watch her go back and do the same things over again. I know, I've had to do that with some good friends myself. And later they've come back and thanked me for being such a friend as to belt them upside the head and telling them to wake up and smell the fucking coffee. And I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Eat & drink till you explode. With a smile on your face.

Posted by: diamond dave at November 22, 2006 09:51 PM (eAC/x)

16 I agree with Diamond Dave about Billie. You should not let her put a guilt trip on you. You supported her until it became obvious that she was beyond help unless she decided to help herself. Don't feel guilty for that. And have a wonderful Thanksgiving. I love the hydrangea vase on the wall; please leep her away from it and the plasma!

Posted by: kenju at November 23, 2006 01:49 AM (L8e9z)

17 I remember once sitting down to write a letter that had me in tears most of the time. In short, it was a letter to a friend that told him that he was getting so self-destructive that he was losing all sympathy— and that if he continued on, I'd have to stop being there for him. That letter damn near broke my heart, since he was a GOOD friend, and I hated to see this happen. (There was no depression involved but a lot of risky behaviors as well as burning bridges.) He never said a word about the letter. I have no idea if it did any good— but after a semester studying abroad, he evened out and now is a good friend again. But I know what it is to have to do the best thing for someone else... especially when it's not the kind thing. The fact that it bothers you to not be there for Billie shows how important showing kindness to friends is for you. But sometimes, it's kinder in the long run to NOT be there, to give them a hint that their path is going downhill or even off a cliff. Think of it as a warning sign: "Cliff Ahead. TURN." I hope that Billie chooses a better path. But you can't live her life for her. Try not to tear yourself up over her (though you probably will.)

Posted by: B. Durbin at November 23, 2006 07:21 AM (tie24)

18 Once I had a friend who would wake me up at three in the morning clearly high on pills and booze. I grew tired of her great soul-sucking needs, especially because she was unable to see that other people had needs, and one day, I just walked away. We can't fix people, we can be friends and try to support them, but we can't fix them. I agree with whomever already stated that if she gets drunk at Thanksgiving you should put her in a cab and send her on her way home. There is no need to monitor and mention her drinking, you're not her parent, but you have every right to remover her from your house if she is drunk and disorderly. I sm sure that when she sobers up and realizes that she was sent home early you will have the perfect opportunity to tell her what she needs to hear.

Posted by: Some Girl at November 23, 2006 07:30 AM (3vTt6)

19 Ibid to all of it. I had a similar experience with a good friend. The day we had to call an ambulance for him because he nearly drank himself to death was the day I walked away. I hope he gets better, but I have plenty of problems of my own to deal with.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 23, 2006 03:06 PM (FKBK3)

20 I'd say she has a self centred problem not a drinking problem. Noice she didn't even ask if you were ok. I've had "friends" and relatives like this and I no longr have an ounce of sympathy for these types who impose their problems on everyone else and use up 2nd, 3rd, 4th etc chances. I hate to sound like a conservative but over time I've concluded that most alchos are just using drinking as an excuse for their bad character. end rant, duck for cover!

Posted by: Steve P at November 26, 2006 11:38 AM (PUvyU)

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I know it seems that I have gone from "depression" to "Jim Carrey-hyper" in 60 seconds.

You probably also groan when you open my site and find another post about miscarriage, depression, or-worse-another fucking recipe cooked up in the kitchen Chez Helen. You may think: Christ, babe-when are you going to get over it? Or: Dude. Enough with the psychiatric-level posts, m'kay?

Or maybe you don't.

Anyway, I too am ready to move on, and I'm getting there, I really am, and if all these posts about cooking or DIY or my God, she's talking about her pets again are getting to you, then bear with me. I am cheering up, even if there's a manic quality to my cheering up: I love Christmas! Everything is great! HA HA HA! Let's go make some fudge! I'll put on a Christmas DVD! I love Christmas! Maybe I'm clinging too hard to my love of Elf (which I want to watch constantly. I'm sure it'll pass after Christmas. Hopefully.)

I guess what I'm trying to say here is this-It probably hasn't been easy to watch the complete car accident that has been my life recently. I know I have not been the most interesting, especially during times when I just had nothing to post. I know I'm not rocking the originality lately, either.

But I'm getting there.

And thanks for being there, with me.

I really mean that.

Time to go watch Elf to work in London now.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:48 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 255 words, total size 1 kb.

1 It's your blog and you can cry, scream, laugh, cook, watch Elf if you wan't to. We are just lucky that you let us come along for the ride. VERY glad to read that you are feeling happier. ~hugs~

Posted by: Mia at November 21, 2006 07:19 AM (wsoh+)

2 whether it's doldrums or mania, you're taking a hell of a ride girl, and I'm happy you'll take me along a few paragraphs at a time Life is a car wreck followed by an Elf marathon. For everyone. There's no need to apologize.

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 21, 2006 07:46 AM (r0kgl)

3 I really can't do much but echo caltechgirl here. Because life IS a car wreck followed by an Elf marathon. You do happen to write beautifully about all of it, is the thing.

Posted by: ilyka at November 21, 2006 07:59 AM (Sz1jV)

4 Ditto to what Mia said. And after Christmas you can get Talladega Nights: The Ballad Of Ricky Bobbyto help with the Elf withdrawal.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 21, 2006 12:29 PM (FKBK3)

5 Hey, I'm quite familiar with the "life-as-a-car-wreck" oeuvre, as that's pretty much been me since moving to Atlanta. BTW, your thing is in the mail.

Posted by: amber at November 21, 2006 03:15 PM (5PLeA)

6 Your name is Helen! You're our friend! Even though you didn't know we were born! Annnd...We love you! We love you! We love you!

Posted by: Lindsay at November 21, 2006 03:20 PM (8X2F0)

7 Why are you apologizing!?! It's your blog - you get to write whatever you darn well please. Keep it up - if it's therapeutic and helping - then I'll read a fudge recipe everyday.

Posted by: Suz at November 21, 2006 03:35 PM (gIq83)

8 Helen, you could instruct us on the proper way to fold a dishtowel, and there would be something fascinating about the discussion. I know I've been somewhat quiet here lately, but I hope you know I've been right there with you, all the same, every step of the way. As you celebrate the American tradition this week, may you and yours party on with gratitude and happiness. Happy Thanksgiving, love.

Posted by: Jennifer at November 21, 2006 04:05 PM (RlFqM)

9 In a tragic twist, I learned that we do not, in fact, own the movie Elf. Something must be done about this, stat. Also, I'd much rather read your blog than mine!

Posted by: geeky at November 21, 2006 04:22 PM (ziVl9)

10 Just because I am an internet-friend doesnt mean I am a fairweather one. And friends stick by you through all the good and bad, else they wouldnt be friends. Have I mentioned Im master of the obvious? You are beautiful.

Posted by: That Girl at November 21, 2006 04:48 PM (oT4a3)

11 Man, if posts about pets are wrong, then I don't want to be right! Seriously though, do what you have to do, post what you have to (want to) post and don't mind us. I'm with ya either way!

Posted by: Erin at November 21, 2006 05:23 PM (zw8QA)

12 You know, I have never seen ELF. You have blogged so much about it lately that I ordered it from Amazon.com. It came yesterday when I got home from work. I'll watch it tonight. I can't wait since you rave so much about it - its gotta be hysterical. I Love Christmas too! I agree with the others - It doesn't matter what you write about, JUST WRITE-Cause we like it! (And Thanks!) I think it is safe to say that we are all rooting for you.

Posted by: kimmykins13 at November 21, 2006 05:30 PM (HUKlZ)

13 Hey - I lover reading your blog. You post what you want, do what you want...but you don't need me to tell you that! Just know you make one SoCal girl very happy to share in your world.

Posted by: Miss K at November 21, 2006 06:24 PM (EM7ls)

14 That's what friends do. They enjoy the good times together and trudge (for lack of a better word) through the hard times together. I know we have our differences in opinion sometimes, but I'm glad to trudge (for lack of a better word) with you.

Posted by: Solomon at November 21, 2006 08:24 PM (k1sTy)

15 Helen - Keep up the good work. That's what I have to say. Your honesty is great. I know that if I knew you in the real world, not just cyber world, I would like you a lot. And we would enjoy Elf and gingerbread lattes together.

Posted by: SaraJane at November 21, 2006 09:27 PM (If0H6)

16 Don´t want to spoil the good spirit here, but… isn´t this the time to really think about where you´re going? I know you know what I mean, the rollercoaster ride, the high getting to high, and the down that follows. Please don´t think badly of me, I trully am concerned. It´s just that I already saw this movie.

Posted by: miguel at November 21, 2006 10:25 PM (DW5Bx)

17 I think mostly we're harder on ourselves than others are on us, b/c you haven't been a train wreck at all, IMO. Yeah, of course you've been sad. To be sad given the tragic loss though, is so very, very normal. Don't sweat not being what you think others want you to be. Do your own thing in your own time. :-)

Posted by: Polichick at November 21, 2006 11:11 PM (ibT+U)

18 It's Your Blog. We are guests, and we feel privileged to be here. If we don't, we can show ourselves out. But you can add this to your list of accomplishments— whether depression or subway rides, walks with the dog or Elf, home improvement or feeling rootless, you write compellingly. I know little about you and you know next to nothing about me and yet to me at least, it's like keeping tabs on a friend. A friend who has had a bit of a rough ride lately. So worry not and hold fast. It's just awesome that the upswing is happening as the holidays approach. Because of my job (high school photography), it feels as though I've missed autumn entirely, and I'd hate to forget the holidays because I was too busy. Reading your site reminds me a little of what it's like to have a family keen on the holiday spirit. (I try, but Evil Rob? He grew up in a house of chronic invalidism, so Christmas might well be spent in the hospital. Not a recipe for traditions.) Which reminds me. St. Nicholas Day is the 6th of December. Good little girls and boys leave their shoes out the night of the 5th and get some candy and a toy. (My parents— good— get Legos. For themselves.) Gingerbread is traditional. Perhaps you should tell St. Nicholas (the Bishop of Myra, not The Jolly Old Elf) that gingerbread lattes might fill the requirement nicely.

Posted by: B. Durbin at November 22, 2006 03:33 AM (tie24)

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Once the depression eased off, it left a massive wake behind it. Angus and I have suddenly had bottles of Red Bull strapped to our backs as we go into Super-Hyper DIY mode. Finally, our university-style living room disappeared (a shame, as we've had guests who had to witness the utter styling horror or, as has been named by Statia, the "early fuck" phase) and in it's place is a completely different room.

It took a lot of work to get it to this phase, so if it looks easy, then...well...it wasn't.

Here's the living room now (and it occurs to me I don't have any "before" pictures of the living room to show, mostly because the living room was not a place we were proud of). It has new couches, the TV on a new wall, and purpose built shelves holding up our DVDs. The dog toys in the center of the room are standard, of course.

This is the view from the back of the room, where we've kept the old couch as a "reading space" couch, and also? It has a pull out bed and Angus' extended family are staying with us over Christmas, so that baby will get pressed into use.

And if it seems weird to view a TV side-ways on, here's what it's like from a user perspective-not difficult at all, especially when Elf is playing for the tenth time.

And here is what it's like in the evenings-it's been very cold here recently, so the fireplace has been broken in. The dog (and his toys, which no matter how often we tidy up they just get dragged back out again) and Mumin love the fire.

So our living room is grown up now. We did it all ourselves. I love the space, I love the feel of it. I relax right away.

The kitchen also got tackled. If you've been following in Flickr, you might have seen that the green? She's gone. And before the green? The red went, too. Now the kitchen is painted a cool shade of blue, and Angus has hung a number of lights in the kitchen-there's only one window in the kitchen and it's a very long room, so it tends to be very dark in there. So we hung up the lights we bought from the Orient Express day, the ones from the 1930's.

(The cables over the sink have fallen-Angus is going to fix that this week. Pretend you don't seem them hanging there.)

This is the back of the kitchen, where the other plasma hangs and where Gorby's kennel still remains. He doesn't need the kennel but he honestly likes it and finds comfort in it sometimes, so we leave it up with the door open and if he's feeling insecure, he heads in there.

There's the house, then. A lot will change when the extension is built on, and the entire kitchen will be gutted and stripped out (the cabinet top is tile. TILE. It has to go. We hate the kitchen.)

And last night I cooked, again in the extended version if you're interested.

-H. more...

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:14 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 1087 words, total size 7 kb.

As time has progressed, my tastes have changed.

My food tastes, that is.

As a kid I was a picky eater-in a flagrant act of rebellion against my father I would avoid his Asian food like the plague. The family would have sukiyaki, I'd have clam chowder. That, and considering the fact that every fucking meal was served with rice, I nurtured a deep, passionate relationship with potatoes that continues to this day. Once I left home I didn't have rice for many, many years.

But that has changed, and these days I love a good hot bowl of sticky Asian rice (Uncle Ben's is not rice. I am sure of this. And Uncle Ben's in a packet you whack in the microwave is some kind of hideous sacrilege, much like most San Franciscans must feel about Rice-a-Roni.) I don't have it with every meal, but Angus' Asian sister-in-law and I get together and worship around the rice cooker from time to time (how REAL sticky rice is made!)

Things change, really.

As a kid, I thought that the word "spices" consisted of salt and pepper. And to that end, I really didn't gel with the pepper. I was a salt girl-salt went on everything, and in mass quantities. When I was younger I suffered from rockingly severe migraines, so I was on a permanent diet of foods that didn't trigger migraines, which included:

No cheese
No sausage/bacon
No red wine (so hard when you're 8 years old)
No chocolate or caffeine of any kind
No MSG (commonly used in Chinese food)
No onions or garlic

and more, which I've now forgotten. In order to skip the migraines, I did avoid these foods. I was also on medication to help, which doubles as an anti-depressant. I was on max doses as a kid (and once passed out from the levels of it in my blood), but it goes a long way to explain why, when I was taken off it as a teen, I crashed so fucking hard.

I ate only American cheese or cheddar. The vegetable good group consisted of corn and French cut green beans only (and they had to be French cut. No porky looking beans for me.) I wasn't a big meat eater then-meat just never tasted very nice to me-but I loved fried chicken (I am now completely squicked out by fried chicken due to the fact that A) no fried foods allowed in my diet as hello? One way ticket to Heart Attack Land? and B) I don't eat chicken.) My favorite food was Italian food. Italian food, and pretty much nothing else.

I remember my stepmother telling me that I should cook for my husband. My stepmother was new to the family and I was an 18 year-old new to marriage (the lessons we learn, eh?). I remember rubbishing her idea-if he wanted food he better learn how to goddamn cook. Cooking was old-fashioned. I was a feminist, I didn't cook for any man! The meals I prepared had three steps:

1) Remove box from freezer
2) Insert goods into oven
3) Remove whatever unrecognizable thing it was I stuck in there and serve

I was good.

And I was never big on alcohol or coffee. I just didn't drink them. I can count on one hand the number of times I drank both of those before I was 25 or so.

But then over time, my tastes started changing. It had nothing to do with Angus, really (although he introduced me to the wide and beautiful world of Indian curry, a meeting of which I will forever be grateful.) I just...changed.

The biggest change was going vegetarian about 5 years ago (although for protein reasons, I have started eating fish again.) I do still get migraines sometimes, but that migraine diet is gone (except the sausage and bacon part. See: vegetarian).

And cheese? Cheese is my best friend in the whole world, ever. Cheese and I get along brilliantly. The only cheese I don't like is St. Agur, but other than that I've yet to meet a cheese I couldn't sit down with and discuss Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I've made up for lots of lost time in the red wine department, too. White wine, champagne, and port are included in that category. I've never been big on hard liquor (unless it's in a margarita) and after overdoing it once on vodka, I can't even stand the smell of the stuff.

Vegetables are among my favorite foods (except for kidney beans, which I still loathe) -my top two favorite meals (in an order which reverses back and forth, depending on mood) are artichokes and homemade mac and cheese. I'm a simple girl, really. Simple tastes. While I still like Italian food, my favorite food is Middle Eastern food (specifically Lebanese food but I'll scoff down Moroccan or Egyptian just as happily).

Spices are something that get used religiously in our house. Ironically I now can't stand salt and I almost never use the stuff. But spices-especially Indian spices, when cooking on a hot pan and cracking and popping-make my mouth water.

We have a lot of spices.

We are surprisingly unorganized about our spices.

And another big change in me is that I love to cook. Love it. But I really only feel I can cook when I'm not stressed, when I'm in a good mood and looking forward to rocking with the plasma TV and the doggie. I find cookbooks to be wonderful, incredible treasure chests.

We have a lot of cookbooks.

Some we use more than others, but we'll often just flip through a book and have our fancy taken by something, and make it that night. We've had many successes, but also many failures (note to self: Greek spinach stuffed filo is not for the home cooking.)

And we cook a lot. This is me stirring Angus' trout pasta recipe. It sounds awful, but it's absolutely fabulous.

(The wet braided hair and glasses just add to the hotness.)

This is the finished product:

I guess that we all change as we grow up, our tastes convert from something we never imagined-I'd never have guessed someday I'd love bleu cheese, and that someday I'd refuse to eat fried chicken. I never guess sticky Asian rice would come back into my diet. Most of all, I never would have imagined that cooking for a man would be viewed not as subservience, but as something I loved doing.

Who knew?

-H

Trout pasta recipe in the extended version, if you're interested. more...

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:11 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 1174 words, total size 7 kb.

A bit disjointed, but then I got very little sleep last night (just couldn't sleep. And you know when you take a sleeping tablet to reach that sleeping goal, but it occasionally backfires and you overshoot the sleeping mark so badly that you spin around in bed and your legs twitch? Yeah. I had that.) As a result of no sleep, I'm non compos mentis this morning and making very little sense-despite having coffee and being on a million conference calls today, I'm flagging. Bad. So here are a number of small bites, as I am barely conscious just now.

*************************************

I just checked on something in my archives and noticed that old posts using an apostrophe in them now have some kind of weird character string in them. I could fix the posts-which I will inevitably do as I'm neurotic-or I could imagine that it's MI6 code for contacting aliens about the best field in Britain to land the mother ship on. I'm going for the MI6 code for now.

*************************************

Five weeks to Christmas, people, five weeks! I've been playing Christmas carols on my iTunes already. Angus has declared war on this act by insisting on playing fetch with Gorby's most favorite (and most annoying) squeaky toys around me. By the time Christmas rolls around, we'll either have a winner or one or both of us will be deaf.

*************************************

I had a London meeting yesteday and managed to swing in to Starbucks beforehand (gingerbread latte!) to ease my caffeine needs. Before I got to the queue I realized something was wrong. Something was wrong with my skirt, specifically. I felt like I was wrapped up like a mummy, bunched in some kind of trapping-fabric prison. Turns out the lining to my skirt had gotten tucked into my tights. Once I realized what was going on I knew I had to fix it now-right now-as otherwise it would drive me mad. I stepped outside of Starbucks, stood in front of a black wall, and froze my tits off while I lifted the back of my skirt, pulled the liner free from the prison of both my stockings and my knickers, and then adjusted my Underoos (they weren't really Underoos I just like to pretend they are. They give me super powers, in that I'm able to leap tall buildings with a single beaver) and my tights, smoothed my skirt, and went back in.

So then I waited in a giant queue (gingerbread latte!) and I found out they have a Starbucks prepay card. I signed up for one, and even broke it in buy buying my venti nonfat gingerbread latte (I think people that order complicated coffees are pretentious asses-"half caf cap decaf double shot soy latte!"-but at Christmas time, I abandon my ordinary Americano and join Assville.) I got my coffee from the coffee window and saw people staring at me, grinning. I grinned back. I love coffee. I love Christmas. I love my new Starbucks prepay card. Everybody happy.

Then I reached around for a napkin and realized the black wall I stood in front of to fix my tights wasn't a wall at all, but a privacy window. The black wall was actually glass. I didn't see them, but the patrons of Starbucks saw every stitch of my undercarriage clothing and my white ass as I fixed my skirt.

I shrugged it off.

I've done worse.

*************************************

Before I get all depressed again at how many bloggers are getting knocked up without even trying (This is why I haven't been reading other people's blogs, and why I'm going back to my little turtle shell again, la la la, I can't hear you), can I just say...ew?

Mrs. Claus does not get knocked up. Mrs. Claus is about 1,000 years old, all she does is bake cookies and pet the reindeer. Santa Claus could not get her pregnant-he doesn't even have a penis, I'm sure of it (I haven't checked myself, it's one of those things you just know, like you know that You Can Believe It's Not Butter doesn't actually taste anything like butter and that Paris Hilton knows her way around an antibiotic cabinet). So for the makers of said film? Yeah. I owe you a nightmare.

*************************************

I'm going on 4 years of writing this blog soon-not sure if you were around then, but life for me was very different in 2003. I was sitting here this morning in my chilly study with the Christmas music on and I remembered a darker, colder November. I remember swirls of snow on the windowsill and fireplaces roaring in the living room and bedroom. I remember white floorboards and pastel couches. I remember watching TV until 3 am and wondering how I was going to get through it all. I remember that November three years ago very clearly. I checked my calendar this morning to see what date it happened and I saw it-this coming Sunday is the 3 year anniversary of the day I lost my job from Company X. Maybe it's sour grapes, maybe it's hindsight, maybe it's bitterness, but my life is wildly different now and in many, many ways much better-financially I'm better off, my work-while difficult-is something I enjoy more, I have a lovely dog and a house that I love, and that's not even mentioning the boy...

I would still take away the memories of that November, if I could.

But things don't work like that, and so I remember that cold and bleak November and thank god it all turned out the way it has.

*************************************

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:51 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 942 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Note to self: start going to Starbuck's.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 16, 2006 12:29 PM (FKBK3)

2 I'm certain it's a special faux pas to tell a story in the comments on someone's blog (gitcher own blog), but...I used to teach college courses for active duty military personnel. To make the rank of SGT, they had to have college credit. The SGT school was 30 days long, the students mostly men who hadn't seen their families in that time. One hot summer day, in the third hour of lecturing, half the class was dozing off. I was wearing a light silk dress and acidentally stepped in front of a fan. My dress flew up over my head, exposing not just my unders, but my CAMOUFLAGE THONG. Once the hooting and hollering died down, I gathered my dignity (once it was clear that the floor was not going to open up and swallow me, as hoped) and said, "Okay. That's as far as I'm prepared to go to keep you people awake. You're on your own." Then we took a short break. There was no more sleeping in my class...

Posted by: gennimcmahon at November 16, 2006 02:20 PM (QqF9v)

3 Gratitude - and the awareness of the need for it - is one of the hallmarks of growing up, I think. Will you ever be able to drink gingerbread latte again without remembering the skirt episode? I think not.....LOL

Posted by: kenju at November 16, 2006 03:20 PM (L8e9z)

4 H ~ I couldn't read any farther past your Starbucks/Underoos fiasco without commenting. Between reading David Sedaris this morning and you this afternoon, my Underoos are nearly soaked. Thanks for the much needed laugh!

Posted by: nojo at November 16, 2006 05:11 PM (XdFfb)

5 at least the Starbucks customers were grinning and not cringing

Posted by: geeky at November 16, 2006 05:33 PM (ziVl9)

6 H- I don't comment with any regular frequency, but I read everyday. Your posts give me a few minutes away from the hectic, the harriedness, that is my daily routine. Thank you for providing that relief for those of us in need of a little escape. No matter what the topic- a bit of humor, a bit of sadness, a lot of sadness, some introspection, you always seem to convey your thoughts with such grace. -jen

Posted by: Jen-Again at November 16, 2006 06:42 PM (9sYS7)

7 I'm laughing with you!

Posted by: Steff at November 16, 2006 07:45 PM (fIFtd)

8 I'm hoping that next November I can look back at this one and know that it happened for a reason and at least I'm free from the prison of a workplace that I hated going to every day. The way it happened is complete shit, right before Christmas. BUT, I feel like something good will eventually come of it.

Posted by: girl at November 16, 2006 11:21 PM (z6Kyx)

9 I'm sure you made their day! I wonder if any of them will blog it? Glad you are in such a more pleasant place this November. I'm with Angus on the music--but I'm glad you are enjoying it--out of my earshot.

Posted by: sophie at November 17, 2006 04:29 PM (1HOa8)

10 ... it was a re-build that Pixy did the other day.... it caused a lot of punctuation to be hammered with strange characters..... the best way to deal with it is 1. ignore it... or 2. do a "find and replace" in your MT console... ... hope that helps....

Posted by: Eric at November 18, 2006 01:26 AM (NlzwQ)

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Being in the States is often hard for me, not simply because I travel to areas that I once lived in or near, that I once knew, but because IÂ’m like the gingerbread gone wrong-I used to fit, I used to come out of the mold with little gumdrop buttons and a racy icing border, but through the nicks and drops that I have had in my life, the gumdrops have been replaced by Rowntree, the icing is now erased, and I became mixed with Swedish pepperkakor. I donÂ’t fit the mold anymore. Maybe I never did, and thatÂ’s part of why I felt like I didnÂ’t belong in life, I felt hideously awkward and embarrassed, a sore thumb in a room full of pinkies.

And when I go back, I like to be in the places that I once loved (Target!) My days revolve around how to fit my favorite eateries in-Boston Market, EinsteinÂ’s Bagels, a Mrs. FieldÂ’s cookie to tide me over, a greasy IHOP breakfast, and EatziÂ’s when IÂ’m on the move.

Grocery stores fill my head with wonder and with memories. I see shelves of Tang and remember it from before, as well as the tall brown bottles of Ovaltine (Dear Ovaltine, I canÂ’t believe I ever touched your nasty brown drink. PS-LilÂ’ Orphan Annie, please get yourself some eyeballs.) A jar of marshmallow cream, which topped my childhood hot chocolate. Kraft American cheese-Colby Jack even!-and shiny slippery tubes of GrandÂ’s threatening to burst their seams with the short application of the business end of a spoon (when really, itÂ’s more fun to whack the tube against the kitchen counter). In the fruit aisle are cans of LibbyÂ’s! LibbyÂ’s! LibbyÂ’s! (on the Label! Label! Label!) The aisles of medications make me fall to my knees, as every box and every bottle promise to cure my every ailment. I worship at the feet of Starburst Jellybeans and Twizzlers.

And yet a lot has changed. Cheez-Its have grown cheesier. Lucky Charms are now colored radioactive colors (and donÂ’t even get me started on Trix). Every cashier seems to want to know my phone number, and even when I tell them IÂ’m not local, they press me and I have to go the distance and tell them I live in England, their computers canÂ’t take my 12 digit phone number. The TV shows that I remember from 7 years ago are mostly gone now, replaced by new faces in new places that I never knew.

But the people? My god, American people are kind. Americans smile more, they reach out and touch you on the shoulder as you share a joke, they make eye contact, they talk to you at every queue (sorry, line), every restaurant, every shop. This is something I had forgotten. This is something I miss.

And I look around at the big beautiful country I left behind and I miss some things, miss them fiercely. A drive around a city is like a violin concerto on my heart strings-I remember this, I laugh at the memory of that, oh my God thereÂ’s that storeÂ…and maybe because IÂ’ve been away, I can see why people think that America and everything about it is so much bigger, so much more. ItÂ’s all bigger, itÂ’s all more, in about one hundred fantastic ways. The lights are brighter, the smiles bigger, and the laughs louder. ItÂ’s wonderfulÂ…and sad. Things feel good, they hurt, and they make me rememberÂ…not least in Atlanta, which is an hour away from where my Grandpa is buried.

I didnÂ’t want to go there to see it.

In my mind, heÂ’s not there. HeÂ’s Somewhere Else.

America brings out that nostalgic smile inside of me. But at the same time, I don’t think I can ever go back. This is the way it is with everyone I know who comes from the Big Country and left (I detest the word “expats”. I’m a quiet kind of patriot-I don’t do flags but that doesn’t mean I am not proud of my heritage and all of the Ellis Island entrances that went with it. While there are things I don’t like about America, I love my country and I will never give up my citizenship. The term expat, to me, implies that we are literally ex-patriots. We’re just ex-residents, there’s a difference.) Every single American I know that left the country feels that they cannot go back, not permanently, not ever again. And I feel the same. I can’t explain why, it’s not like there’s something wrong with going back to the States, it’s not that something’s broken…you just can’t go back. You can’t. You can never go home again, in every sense of the word.

Oh sure, the logistics would be easy-I could hook up the electricity, I’d be around for voting time. I can work the suicide lane and I know where to go to buy most anything, I don’t have to beg Google to yield the answers. I’m sure Maggie and Mumin can become American cats, and I think Gorby has what it takes to be an American dog. Angus could do fine there (he seems to cause a stir wherever he goes-people love to ask him about England, and in Atlanta he got asked how often he did high tea in London, to which his British accent stirred through the air: “Me? I’ve never had high tea in my life. Rubbish.”)

But IÂ’d still feel like I always did-awkward. Embarrassed. An opposed digit in a single finger world. Not because America is bad, not because America has something wrong, but because thereÂ’s something in me that doesnÂ’t fit, some part of my gingerbread mold that canÂ’t fit right. America was where I come from and I will always love it. I just donÂ’t belong, and I never did. I was constantly getting things wrong, feeling abnormal, and cringing from the basic humanity of things and events around me.

And then the engineer comes on and announces that we will shortly be arriving at London Waterloo, all change please, and I close my PC, save my work, and stand up.

Where I am now is where IÂ’m meant to be.

And I grab myself a gingerbread latte, compose a grocery list in my mind, and step out into my own familiarity.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 02:53 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 1070 words, total size 6 kb.

1 That post sure makes me think a bit. Are we all pretending to be kind to cope with the scrutiny of American society? Good thoughts!

Posted by: Steff at November 15, 2006 03:31 PM (uKuUC)

2 They don't have CoJack cheese in the UK? I never really thought about that being just an American thing before. Funny, I also thought twizzlers would be worldwide.

Posted by: Teri at November 15, 2006 03:46 PM (K7jOL)

3 Okay, I hate to be the asshole, but marshmallow fluff and jelly beans have gelatin in. And we'll take you in America every chance we can get, luv. Even if it's not forever, we'll savour every moment we can get. xxx

Posted by: Ms. Pants at November 15, 2006 04:12 PM (r6SJw)

4 but marshmallow fluff and jelly beans have gelatin in. OH. FUCKING. HELL. There goes those food items off my list...*sigh*

Posted by: Helen at November 15, 2006 04:14 PM (JkZAx)

5 It's funny to me how when American's are overseas, we are all loud and obnoxious, yet when people come here they are always amazed at how friendly we are. I guess it's all about perspective - I'm loud in a room full of books, but I seem quiet in a club, ya know? I'm with Pants. We'll take you every second we can. And I know what you mean about the belonging bit. I've never felt like I didn't belong here, I've never really thought about it. But I felt like I belonged in Scotland the minute I stepped off that plane. Oh well. Maybe in another life.

Posted by: amy t. at November 15, 2006 04:15 PM (3dOTd)

6 So lovely! Great post. I know how you feel...

Posted by: Eyes at November 15, 2006 04:20 PM (L67iN)

7 I donÂ’t fit the mold anymore. Maybe I never did, and thatÂ’s part of why I felt like I didnÂ’t belong in life, I felt hideously awkward and embarrassed, a sore thumb in a room full of pinkies. You've just put into words what it took me two whole sessions with my therapist to express. I thought it was where I used to live that was making me feel that way, but it's actually got a little worse since moving to Atlanta. So maybe I need to start looking in other places for where I feel comfortable.

Posted by: amber at November 15, 2006 04:31 PM (5PLeA)

8 I don't want to be a pain by injecting British pedantry here, but "expat" is short for "expatriate" i.e. someone who is resident in a country other than their native one, so there's no implication of not being patriotic.

Posted by: John at November 15, 2006 04:36 PM (St4cN)

9 I know that John. I gave how I felt about the term expat, as I said in the following: The term expat, to me, implies that we are literally ex-patriots. WeÂ’re just ex-residents, thereÂ’s a difference.

Posted by: Helen at November 15, 2006 04:40 PM (JkZAx)

10 you said so clearly what I am facing up to right now that you might as well have been in my skin

Posted by: stinkerbell at November 15, 2006 04:42 PM (QcMkT)

11 Hey H~ It's been a loooong while since I've commented. I just wanted to say that you don't have to move out of a country to feel like you don't belong. I was born and raised in San Diego but moved to Cleveland 19 years ago. When I go there to visit my family...all the familiar things brings a twinge to my heart and for a second I'm homesick. But deep in my heart I know I could never live there again. It's not apart of me anymore or at least not the biggest part of me. Where your home is and by home I mean where your true self is...that's where you belong. Where your safe. Oh and by the way...that picture of you and the teddy bear on flicker. Reminds me of our beloved Luka. Remember her? I wonder where her home is?

Posted by: Tiffani at November 15, 2006 06:55 PM (4x4HO)

12 Don't worry, Marshmallow Fluff and Starburst Jelly Beans are vegetarian. (Jelly Bellys are a veggie option too.) Unfortunately regular marshmallows are not. I miss campfire smores something terrible. Another one that killed me were the Junior Mints! I was bitter as hell at the movies after I found that out. Also why the crap do Altoids need to have gelatin in them?!? Can a veggie sistah get some fresh breath up in here? lol

Posted by: Lee at November 15, 2006 08:07 PM (PYZOC)

13 Kinda reminds me of how I felt during my California days. I lived fifteen years, almost half my life, there (went there as a young teen when my dad's job got transferred from Georgia). Did the bulk of my growing up (teen and adult) there, found many wonderful friends (including my wife), and had many wonderful experiences (like living in a hillside house with a view of San Francisco Bay for a year). Yet I never felt like I totally fit the California lifestyle. And even though I'd love to go back and visit, see some old friends, and go places I used to go, I could never live there again. And not just because of the cost of living. After living in Georgia for the past nine years (and living here for about eight as a child) I'd feel even more a misfit than I did before.

Posted by: diamond dave at November 15, 2006 10:08 PM (12GB3)

14 I loved this post, Helen. I was 'home' when I got to the Scottish highlands. Now if I could just figure out a way to earn a living there... And kosher marshmallows and jelly beans etc. are gelatin free.

Posted by: Jocelyn at November 15, 2006 10:49 PM (jkRb/)

15 I feel the same way about Canada. I love it fiercely, I will never give up my citizenship and I love to visit, but I am always glad to get back to the Bay Area. There's a lot of water under those Canadian bridges.

Posted by: Donna at November 16, 2006 12:35 AM (Aanzg)

16 Well I for one am glad it is not just me! I grew up and New England, moved to California and now I am back in NE. I feel like a like I just don't fit here. I so want to go back to CA.

Posted by: justme at November 16, 2006 06:40 PM (H0c+s)

17 But the people? My god, American people are kind. Americans smile more, they reach out and touch you on the shoulder as you share a joke, they make eye contact, they talk to you at every queue (sorry, line), every restaurant, every shop. This is something I had forgotten. This is something I miss. I dated a Brit when I was in my late teens and the first time he ever went to an American mall, all of the associates in the stores freaked him out. He didn't get it that people actually SPEAK to you when you walk in and that they follow you around and ask if they can help you find anything. He was rather put off by it at first, just as I was completely put off by the fact that no one spoke to me when I went to one of the many malls when I was in England. I couldn't figure out why everyone was so fucking rude.

Posted by: girl at November 17, 2006 12:50 AM (z6Kyx)

18 I have similar feelings about my home state of Texas. Not that Iowa is an entirely different country, but still, it's pretty different. I love home and I love to visit (BBQ and Mexican food and wearing flip flops in January!) but I could never go back to live, every trip home is a little surreal, like going back in time.

Posted by: felicity at November 17, 2006 06:05 PM (Q2Vug)

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I'm sure you haven't noticed, but I've been in a bit of a funk.

No really.

Seeing as I'm a Monday-Friday girl (and have been since I kicked this blog off), September had me display a grand total of 10 posts for the entire month. Half the time I sat down and couldn't think of something that wasn't "Sarah McLachlan Hold On Suicide-Worthy" to write about, the other half of the time I avoided the PC like the plague as Google beckoned me with things to search-IVF success rates, rates of further miscarriage...I bordered on becoming a cyberchondriac.

And there I was at Halloween, wondering how I could avoid the baby costume section of the shops.

And there I was in Scotland, aware that I was scoffing down the whiskey when I should be in my second trimester.

And there I was in the States, little girl lost.

And there I was at the wedding wearing a swingy dress, when I should be wearing something A-line waisted.

And here I am, staring down Thanksgiving (usually a not easy time for me, being here while the Macy's Day Parade, the football, the people for whom Thanksgiving is a precious and sacred part of their holiday season). True we'll have our own Thanksgiving, as we do, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving Thursday usually sees me on the couch, in comfy clothes, with mac and cheese and Home for the Holidays on the DVD and feeling pretty homesick.

And then Christmas is coming.

Christmas, my favorite time of year.

Christmas, the world's best holiday ever.

Christmas, where we will be hosting his entire family and where I'll undoubtedly be stressed to fuck (note to self: buy more tranquilizers. Urgent.)

Christmas, where I should have been just entering the third trimester, but I won't be.

And it all seemed so fucking hard and tiring. This may not make much sense to those who have not battled with infertility, but that battle resides in my thoughts way more than my wonders about the universe, when Alice Sebold will write another book, or how to get my Sims pets to have puppies. Everything overwhelmed me, our loss this year took my heart and pounded it out on a cutting board, then rolled it flat and made little gingerbread men out of it, which was served up to the management team at work, who shared with the nearest obstetrician's office. This, I knew, was going to be my struggle. This was my test-how to get to my favorite holiday, my most favorite time of year, and be happy.

It didn't look good. My prognosis was very poor. I was so down and miserable I made Ebeneezer Scrooge look like he was a Miami Beach club-goer strung out on E. Puffy Santas made me cringe. Christmas trees made my eyes water. Fake snow fucked me off. I re-enacted Born Free scenes about Rudolph.

And above all, I cried.

Then on Saturday, I watched the falling leaves and realized that I was ok. Christmas was coming, and although it didn't mean that I wouldn't feel a twinge and a pang from time to time-especially as Angus' very pregnant sister-in-law would be here, the one who got knocked up at the same time as our first IVF cycle failed-on the whole, I'd be ok.

I could even enjoy it.

Parts of me are already in love with it again, like discovering Fanta when you'd Fanta'd out.

And no, I'm not decorating yet. It's too early for that, decorating kicks off the day after Thanksgiving. But I'm buying things to decorate-a garland for the living room, which will host stocking holders I just bought. Ornaments which I'll hang from the ceiling in a cluster and lay down beneath them, staring up at them. Advent calendars, to mark every morning before Christmas. We've planned where the tree will go. We've been buying lots of Christmas ornaments, including a new favorite of mine.

Christmas is coming and I was absolutely dreading it. It was something to try to survive, enjoying it was out of the question. I don't know that I am 100% still, (really, my enthusiasm for Christmas is historically overwhelming-I can make Randy Quaid look like he's in a coma) but something about Christmas this year is reaching out and grabbing hold of me, all the while feeling very bittersweet, an orange peel on the tongue, a lock of hair sold for a pocket watch fob. But it's coming all the same, and finally I am looking forward to it. In fact, I'm finally happy that the holidays will be here soon.

I've even downloaded Sarah's new Christmas album.

I confess, I've been listening to it.

I'm also nearly done with Christmas shopping (under the definition of "Anal Retentive Nervousness" in Wikipedia it says: "See-Helen. Also, Dana Carvey".)

And Christmas is coming soon and I will greet it with every mug of Gingerbread Latte I will be drinking (and there are many of those).

So no decorating yet, but when I finally do? I'm larging it*.

-H.

*Angus wouldn't let me buy a 6ft high inflatable snowman. He said it was a step too far. Where's the love?

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:15 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 893 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Eh, get the snowman anyway, but only inflate him to 5.9 feet. Then put it on the roof. In my old South Carolina neighborhood, there was something of an inflatable creature throwdown, to the point that if you stepped outside, all you could hear was the whirring of fans keeping them all filled. One yard had five of them. Then the ice storm hit. Mass casualties.

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at November 14, 2006 01:42 PM (igmiD)

2 Then the ice storm hit. Mass casualties. Now THAT was funny.

Posted by: Helen at November 14, 2006 02:02 PM (JkZAx)

3 Sorry, but the 6ft snowmen are tacky...The discount chains have already had out their inflatable snow globes...those are the most disgusting lawn ornaments ever.What ever happened to dignity? LOL

Posted by: Mitzi at November 14, 2006 02:14 PM (6H1+l)

4 Mitzi-of course they're tacky. They're HIDEOUS. Part of the charm. (I don't really want one, I just want Angus to think I want one. Shhhhhhhhhh...)

Posted by: Helen at November 14, 2006 02:30 PM (JkZAx)

5 I've managed to duck both Christmas and Thanksgiving for the last five years...mostly by being at work 'Cause I'm single and no one else is'. (the overtime bonuses for those days are nice too). I'm covered for Christmas this year (getting out of work at 8 AM on the 25th after a 3 day 37.5 work week) but I think I may be stuck for Thanksgiving.... I think I'll use the 'sports dumb I've developed at work'. Touchdown == home run Flag == Ohh 2 minutes in the Penalty box for that one. "They're pretty good.. how did they do against the Yankees?" ((speaking of a college football team)) "I never did figure Cricket out." "Not much of a Lacross Fan." Figure that ought to get me banished from the living room so I can either read, blog, play computer games, or more likely (at those ugly hours when the sun is up... SLEEP).

Posted by: LarryConley at November 14, 2006 02:37 PM (BLBKC)

6 "I'm also nearly done with Christmas shopping (under the definition of "Anal Retentive Nervousness" in Wikipedia it says: "See-Helen. Also, Dana Carvey".)" See-Statia. Who is also almost done with her Christmas shopping. Also? If you buy an inflatable snowman, we're breaking up.

Posted by: statia at November 14, 2006 03:01 PM (NsnoE)

7 My boyfriend wouldn't let me get one of the inflatable snowglobes, either for Halloween or Christmas. I don't think he realizes the extent of my snowglobe obsession.

Posted by: amber at November 14, 2006 03:06 PM (5PLeA)

8 You have the new Sims add on! Lucky, hope it's good!

Posted by: Hannah at November 14, 2006 04:05 PM (5w+E2)

9 I finished up the last of my Christmas shopping this weekend in Boston. Now I can slowly submerge myself into the season without being forcibly dunked into it, sputtering, via the ridiculous nature of mass commercialism. I prefer that excuse to "anal retentive" these days. ;-)

Posted by: Jennifer at November 14, 2006 04:53 PM (jl9h0)

10 I'm not anywhere close to being done shopping. Normally I make a list of who's getting what from each store, take a cab to the mall the day after Thanksgiving, power shop for two hours, and then cab it home. This year I will be out of town, so I'm trying to get done early. It's making me very flustered. Congrats on being nearly done.

Posted by: amy t. at November 14, 2006 04:59 PM (3dOTd)

11 I'm just starting the Christmas blitz. Planning for gifts and setting up the Christmas card list and all that.... And about that snowman, I think they're positively tame compared to the 8 foot blow up snow globes with animated trains or santas inside :-)

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 14, 2006 05:48 PM (/vgMZ)

12 I tried the Gingerbread Latte from Starbucks the other day and I just wasn't feeling it. I am in love with the Pumpkin Spice Latte and I could drink a Peppermint Latte any day of the year, but the Gingerbread was just a bit much for my palate. Too spicy, maybe? Too sweet? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. We bought Sarah's new album a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't listened to it yet. I'm trying to put it off until after Thanksgiving. I'm having a shithole day today, though, and I'm resisting the urge to pop in FTE and sob in the fetal position.

Posted by: girl at November 14, 2006 07:21 PM (z6Kyx)

13 Try decorating 2 city clubs, a country club, restaurants, the governor's mansion and 3 private homes for Christmas.....and you might get enough of it to last you years and years! I hope you have the most wonderful Christmas ever.

Posted by: kenju at November 15, 2006 02:33 AM (L8e9z)

14 Awww....Angus. You party pooper. Let Helen have her snowman.

Posted by: Lisa at November 15, 2006 03:08 AM (Gl6HE)

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On Saturday I had to run some errands-that gold dress had to go to the dry cleaners, some groceries needed buying, and I needed a few picture frames. It was a typical blustery Fall day, and as I drove, leaves rained down on the car and bounced off, splintered, to the piles by the road. A good CD was playing, I felt calm, and as I drove I realized:

I am ok.

For the first time in months, the depression, the anger, the bitterness, the apathy...it had all drained away.

I am ok.

And this past weekend I was motivated in a way I hadn't seen in a long, long time. Angus and I attacked the house, the arrival of the two new couches energized us and turned the living room from University Chic to a proper living room. We moved the TV to the opposite wall. We hung lights in the kitchen to brighten it up. I tackled the unpacking still left from the States (Dear TSA: Thanks for the little note you slid into two of our three suitcases. Oh, and that note that you put in the big suitcase? The note explaining the bag had been searched? Yeah. You put that in the bottom of the case, next to where the deluxe version of Over the Hedge I'd bought Jeff for Christmas was. Yes, was. The DVD-the edition of which we can't get over here-is gone. Thanks for the note explaining how you're keeping me safe, I honestly do appreciate it, but can I have my DVD back now?) I cleaned the bedroom and bathroom from top to bottom. I hacked at the garden.

And it felt good.

I am getting ready for Christmas, too, and the advent calendars I'd ordered for Angus and myself arrived.

(No, we're not using them until December 1.)

And above all, I got heavy with the cooking.

On Saturday I baked a Sour Cream Coffee Cake.

I laughed to the DVD of Elf as I baked it. I have watched it no less than 6 times now, and I can see it's not going to get boring anytime soon. I pity anyone that has to live with me for the next 6 weeks.

Then I made a massive meal for the boy and I (although I had a tofu escallope, instead of the pork.) Angus got pork roast stuffed with apple and onion stuffing, and we shared an artichoke and potato gratin, as well as Brussell sprouts.

The pork was a lot of work, but turned out well (according to Angus' taste buds).

The potato and artichoke gratin hit the right notes. Cheese? Love it. Potatoes? Love it. Artichoke? Love it.

And I know most people hate them, but we both love Brussell sprouts. It's Brussell sprout season, and they'll be on the stove a lot from here on.

And we had wine, ate a big meal, worshipped our TV in a sparkly living room on our new couches, and I felt ok.

I felt ok.

Finally.

Time and all that jazz...

-H.

Recipes-if you're interested-in the extended version. more...

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:01 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment
Post contains 1355 words, total size 8 kb.

1 Thanks for the recipes! The coffee cake looks especially inviting. Hubby and I love Brussell sprouts as well, but I only have two pretty basic ways of preparing them. :/

Posted by: pam at November 13, 2006 10:30 AM (l6NIn)

2 Good for you! I'm saving the coffee cake and gratin recipes - they look wonderful!

Posted by: Hannah at November 13, 2006 11:34 AM (5w+E2)

3 Pam - go to allrecipes.com and search for shredded brussell sprouts - they are to DIE for!

Posted by: Ronda at November 13, 2006 01:56 PM (KZcwU)

4 i'm so glad you included the coffee cake recipe because i was about to ask for! it looks soooo good. glad you're feeling ok

Posted by: geeky at November 13, 2006 02:50 PM (ziVl9)

5 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Over-Hedge-2-Disc-Special/dp/B000F2VZCA/sr=8-2/qid=1163434904/ref=pd_ka_2/203-6517861-7822350?ie=UTF8&s=dvd will be released in the UK Dec 4.

Posted by: donna at November 13, 2006 04:26 PM (4dWnl)

6 Looks like you are a really good cook. I just got a really good recipe for brussell sprouts with bacon - Yummy! I still would like to get that recipe for the mushroom and stilton galette. Thanks for sharing these!!

Posted by: kimmykins13 at November 13, 2006 04:47 PM (QW8XY)

7 Just FYI, it's Brussels sprouts with an s. Named after the Belgian city of Brussels.

Posted by: Jennifer at November 13, 2006 05:09 PM (V45OB)

8 so glad you've gotten a chance to experience "normal" again. it's a good feeling. thanks for posting the recipes. I was wondering what to make for dinner, and that meal looks like sex on a plate!

Posted by: Myles at November 13, 2006 06:23 PM (eo55L)

9 Ok is a wonderful thing, believe me. I've been going through my own little thing lately, and I'm kinda missing "ok". I adore those advent calendars... I've been cheating the last two years by getting the cheap cardboard ones, but they aren't easy to find around here.

Posted by: amber at November 13, 2006 06:48 PM (5PLeA)

10 Yum! except for the BS. I just can't eat those. But rest assured that I have a date with trader joes for the makings of that gratin. We loves artichokes and potatoes and cheese....

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 13, 2006 06:53 PM (/vgMZ)

11 Jennifer-actually, it's spelled both with and without the s. Both are acceptable spellings. Donna-I saw that, too. Still, depressed about losing my copy, especially since Target told me it was the Deluxe DVD edition exclusive to Target. Target wouldn't lie, right? Right? We usually just boil up the sprouts with salted water, although at Christmas we chuck chestnuts into them.

Posted by: Helen at November 13, 2006 07:42 PM (JkZAx)

12 That may be true, but in either case it only has one L.

Posted by: Jennifer at November 13, 2006 08:16 PM (V45OB)

13 Thank you for your comment on Flickr... he actually caught some youths hotwiring my car from outside of our house, unfortunately 17-year-olds in suburban Nottingham carry knives these days and got a stab in the arm for his troubles. So we are moving to the country as soon as we can sell. I grew up around farms, cows and sheep and nobody I know was ever stabbed. And he will get more than a cuddle when his arm is better Those recipes look lovely, darn the American measurements though!

Posted by: Alice at November 13, 2006 08:35 PM (Nw0jp)

14 Jennifer-true. Feel better now? The essence of this post is that I'm getting over a massive depression. This might come out harsh, but I think I'm struggling a bit to see how or why you think pointing out spelling mistakes is integral here. Not like I'm likely to be discussing sprouts here again, anyway.

Posted by: Helen at November 13, 2006 09:19 PM (JkZAx)

15 YUMMMy! you are doing really really well with that camara. Both you and your food look scrumptious. ahem, scrumpptious..(an extra p for jennifer..hehe)

Posted by: j.m at November 13, 2006 09:59 PM (k3v0Q)

16 Dammit Helen! Some people around here are trying to lose weight, and your gratuitous flashing of food porno in front of me is making my taste buds masturbate! I'm on the next flight to your place for dinner! And I'm one of the weird ones that love good Brussels sprouts (even though they give me gas).

Posted by: diamond dave at November 13, 2006 10:08 PM (12GB3)

17 The foods look yummy (no matter how you spell them) and I am feeling contented that you are OK!

Posted by: kenju at November 13, 2006 11:57 PM (L8e9z)

18 Hi - I've only posted once before, but have been reading for a while now. I just wanted to offer my services if that link isn't the DVD you were looking for, then I'd be glad to help you. I have to go to Target next week, and would be glad to pick up a new one and send it off to you. Just let me know.

Posted by: Terry at November 14, 2006 04:13 AM (Eodj2)

19 Drooool. Ah, m'dear, the photos and recipes are lovely, and I'm remembering a certain tale of "Christmas Yet To Come" (he was the slobbery one, wasn't he?) and how those Christmases may be coming sooner than you hoped. (And I am intensely jealous of those Advent calendars, because as an apartment dweller I have to watch my level of stuff. We don't have enough storage *now*!)

Posted by: B. Durbin at November 14, 2006 05:35 AM (tie24)

20 If I eat Brussels sprouts, my whole system shuts down for five days. Beard and nails don't grow; nothing moves forward biologically speaking. I can still rift and taste their bad selves on the fourth day! No-sir-eee, I'l have the ham and cheese potato[e]s, thank you very much:-)

Posted by: Roger at November 14, 2006 04:12 PM (eFBfX)

21 Tried the grantin with califlower instead of potatos (South Beach-afied) - yum yum yummmy thanks for the recipe!

Posted by: Casey at November 17, 2006 01:08 PM (0M9ku)

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So what to tell you about Atlanta?

The flight, she was not good. The shopping? She was good. Too good. I knew I was in trouble when I walked into Crate and Barrel and had an orgasm. I was in bigger trouble when I walked into shoe shops and had multiple ones. Between us, we bought 8 pairs of shoes. I spent a fortune in Sephora. Target saw about $450 head its way. Krogers saw a great deal of worshipping. Old Navy, J Crew, Eddie Bauer, and more all got visits.

As did Samsonite.

We had to buy a new suitcase, although to be frank, that was our aim anyway-our current suitcase is very small and bashed up, we needed a new one and knew we'd buy one in the States. We found a retail outlet and bought a $400 suitcase for $149, which I felt was a sparkling deal.

It's true we spent a lot of money. At the end of it all, we looked at something like $2000 spent there (and I'm honestly not boastful about that, in fact it makes me cringe a bit), but I'll be honest-goods in the U.S. cost so much less than they do here. We almost never buy shoes here as they cost several times over what they do there. The only tiny Sephora that they had in London closed, and a bottle of Philosophy 3 in 1 shower gel cost $16. Here, they cost £24, which is US £48. See the business case? And we got his kids' Christmas shopping largely done, some of his family, and I can finally throw out my 5 year old heels in favor of my cute new ones.

In all I feel good about some things we have-I have a Thanksgiving tablecloth now. Fleecy Target Christmas toe socks. Several books. And Elf on DVD, of course. Christmas ornaments, stuff to make fantasy fudge at Christmas, stocking holders for the fireplace. Long sleeve shirts and fleece pajamas pants. All things that I miss, that I love, that I wanted, that my pound goes further for in the States than here and most of which I can't even get here.

I got to spend time with my beloved TV, reading trashy goss magazines. I did so with a bottle of champagne. You know, as you do.

Atlanta was OK-the bride's family is from the posh end of town, called Buckhead, so that's where the wedding was. We stayed in that area, and were caught up in wedding activities every day. I barely saw my friend, but then again it was his wedding, so I couldn't expect any more than that. His friends were great-we had dinner with one couple on Sunday night that we got to know at the wedding rehearsal, and whom we invited to come visit and were genuine about it.

Atlanta itself was rocking the Autumn colors. It was amazing.

We got a spare bit of time at Amicalola Falls and enjoyed the beautiful views and the smell-the smell was amazing. New Fall smells like the bottom of a fresh lunch paper bag. The Falls were serenity itself, the area completely relaxing.

I was aghast at the colors-spectacular and calming all at once.

The wedding itself was traditional in every sense-conservative, on a very large scale, and following every known ritual and wedding tradition known to US weddings (and I have to be honest-I find that song, that Wagner Lohengrin song "Here Comes the Bride" the creepiest, most terrifying song in history. To me it sounds so ominous and oppressive. I have never used it in my weddings, and never will. It freaks me out.)

As for me, I bucked my usual tradition of wearing black. I wore new strappy shoes and a new sparkly shawl and a dress that Angus bought me in Scotland.

Me? I wore red.

The wedding was a usual wedding, then off to the reception, which was held in a gala ballroom.

We talked about weddings on our way over to the reception. Angus is nervous about marriage, as we've both been there before. He agreed we probably would get married someday, which I agree with. But we both thought about the massive wedding we'd just seen-the wedding was beautiful, extravagant and luxe, a church affair with all the trimmings. And he and I have both had a wedding like that before.

We agreed the next time? We don't want that. Everyone needs a fairy tale, a lovely white gown and a shiny setting to marry in. But if you trip and fall out of your marriage, the next one? That wedding is for you. We agreed that if we got married, we'd hire out somewhere like the place we love in Wales. We'd invite our closest friends and some of our family out there for a weekend of hanging out, laughing, and relaxing, then an informal wedding. Personally, I want to get away to an island and elope, just the two of us, but that's a step too far for the boy-he's more traditional, and more family oriented in terms of celebrations and holidays.

The reception was ok-we were sat at a table full of telecom people as we are, both of us, in telecom too. Never mind that the dinner was full of talk of babies being born, etc, from the wives (oh. my. God.) We made some friends, we danced a lot, and we loved seeing my friend look so incredibly happy (he cried at the service. I knew he would. All of his other friends said he absolutely wouldn't, but I knew he would. He and I have always been close, we can finish each other's sentences. We go months without talking, but when we talk again? It's just like we spoke yesterday. I knew he'd cry.)

So that was that.

Shopping, wedding, reception, one day with wedding party people, then home (and a big argument on the way home).

And as for the dress, I loved it, and so did he.

- H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:34 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 1013 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Sounds like a blast! I share your love of Target. I never knew how much until they closed the one by my house to remodel it. It was 9 months of pure hell, but the new store is really kick-ass!

Posted by: ~Easy at November 09, 2006 12:35 PM (FKBK3)

2 you look great in that dress! and i love the strappy shoes too

Posted by: geeky at November 09, 2006 02:08 PM (ziVl9)

3 You look beautiful! Aw, man, you were in Buckhead? While I technically live in Buckhead, I'm over by the Lenox Mall.

Posted by: amber at November 09, 2006 02:40 PM (5PLeA)

4 You look amazing! I can't wait to finally go back to the US next fall to get some new clothes - it'll have been 6 years and these jeans just don't fit right

Posted by: Hannah at November 09, 2006 02:54 PM (ImQx2)

5 AMBER! We stayed right next to the Lenox Mall! We even walked there one day! I was in your hood, babe!

Posted by: Helen at November 09, 2006 03:00 PM (fTpcP)

6 Love the red dress! I think I tend to go the more subdued route with what I wear to weddings because it's been somewhat ingrained in me, this stupid idea of not outshining the bride. As if that were possible! Totally hear you on the textbook church wedding. When I can predict almost every detail of a wedding, I get a little bored. Hence my need to run off to someplace tropical for mine!

Posted by: felicity at November 09, 2006 05:28 PM (Q2Vug)

7 Every time I see a picture of you, I am amazed at how luminous your beauty is. You must never need a nightlight -- there is a glow about you that I think is so beautiful. xoxo

Posted by: Just Me at November 09, 2006 06:49 PM (pZJ3T)

8 Darling you looked spectacular! Love that red dress.

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 09, 2006 08:21 PM (/vgMZ)

9 Told'ja the fall colors in the North Georgia mountains were something to see. Glad to hear you got away from the city long enough to experience them. And I happened to be in Buckhead last week, attending a seminar at the Westin Buckhead, next door to Lenox Square. You wouldn't happen to have been staying close by there, were you?

Posted by: diamond dave at November 09, 2006 09:32 PM (iYAb6)

10 Helen, you look lovely in your red dress. Happy, too, which is good.

Posted by: physics geek at November 09, 2006 10:10 PM (KqeHJ)

11 RED is your color!!

Posted by: kenju at November 09, 2006 10:17 PM (L8e9z)

12 Yes Yes the dress is lovely BUT I want to know more about "fantasy fudge" !!! ~grin~

Posted by: Mia at November 09, 2006 11:11 PM (oey4w)

13 You left out the part about the radio active lucky charms. I know you pooped out the radio active and admired the pretty neon colors. I can't wait to get back east. Only five hours to London via plane.

Posted by: statia at November 09, 2006 11:49 PM (KcrOI)

14 I had a small wedding, which was apparently a revelation to my cousin, who had only ever seen the "spend thousands on flowers and pretty stuff you'll use once and invite everybody you know" kind of wedding. She got married in the middle of a ten-kilometer run. They stopped in a park, had the service, and finished the race together. She even had a veil. "The bride wore running shoes..."

Posted by: B. Durbin at November 10, 2006 01:48 AM (tie24)

15 Diamond Dave, we were next door-I was in the Embassy Suites, which shares a drive with the Westin

Posted by: Helen at November 10, 2006 12:46 PM (bkT68)

16 I didn't do the "Here Comes the Bride Thing" either. I walked down the "aisle" (as much of an aisle as you can have outside in Jamaica) to Sarah McLachlan's Touch and I loved it. From the first moment I heard that song, I knew it would be the one that I'd walk down the aisle to and it was just as amazing as I'd hoped it would be. That Sarah, she never lets me down.

Posted by: girl at November 10, 2006 02:26 PM (z6Kyx)

17 Hot damn, Helen! You look FANTASTIC in red! You should wear that more often. It really is the color for you...it compliments your hair and your complexion and makes you look ravishing!

Posted by: Serenity at November 11, 2006 05:52 AM (5BEyw)

18 Helen, you look amazing in that dress. And the shawl...beautiful. I had forgotten how glorious fall can be, as we have none to speak of here. The Hubs and I spent passed through Atlanta this weekend on the way to visit family and fell in love with one of the 'burbs north of the city.

Posted by: selzach at November 13, 2006 01:13 PM (liGMP)

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OK, so...I don't like flying.

Amazing, isn't it?

I have a hatbox that I keep my airline ticket stubs in-they'll all in there since I started collecting them, late 2000. I've been on many, many flights the past 7 years. Hundreds, definitely. I might have even reached the thousand mark. I don't say this boastfully, as the majority of those flights are business flights, which usually saw me with my eyeballs burned into my skull, trips that went from airport to taxi to hotel to office to taxi to airport. It just is.

So it's surprising to hear that I dread flying. Dread it. It's exhausting, soul-sucking, and I am one nervous chick. I read a book once on surviving an airline crash with religious dedication (the answer: if the plane just falls from the sky, as happens sometimes, then you're a goner for the sole reason that your heart explodes. True. Forensics show that although the body-once it hits ground-stops moving, the heart has nothing "holding it in one place", as it were. Your heart hits your ribcage and goes kaput, thanks to physics (isn't this the one where things fall at the rate of 8 meters per second square? I dunno. I failed physics.)

I employ all the tactics-dress better in case of upgrade potential (that has worked before.) Count the number of rows between you and the fire exit. Sit no more than 7 rows away from an exit (statistics show that your chances of survival in a "survivable crash" are non-existent if you sit more than 7 rows from an exit. Now, I am a generally giving, caring person, but should that plane go down I swear I'm rushing for the door good luck to you.) I have an evacuation plan with Angus prepared, should the plane go down and we're travelling with his kids. We pre-book our seats strategically, so that seats around us will be open (works, too, unless the flight is full.)

As we were flying on ym dad's airline, my dad would maybe have helped us with an upgrade, so we tried to be positive.

No such luck.

I asked the guy at the counter, who looked at me. "Is your father the president of the company or on the board of directors?" he asked.

Say yes! Screamed my mind.

"No," said my honest mouth.

"Then I'm really sorry. It's booked up. We can re-arrange people if your parents are board members, but otherwise your seats are the best we can do."

Honesty sucks sometimes.

Our flight to Atlanta was-without question-the worst flight I've ever been on in my life (and not only have I flown Air Garuda and lived to tell the tale, but I was once on a flight that hit an air pocket on landing, sending a wing into the lake just past the runway. I know this, as I was sitting at the window seat overlooking the wing. I may have screamed, but mine wasn't the only one.)

We got put in the middle row-Angus on the end, me in the middle.

Plus the DVD rack for the in-flight entertainment was below the seat in front of me, so I had no leg room.

There was a massive group of women travelling, all with babies, as some kind of tour group. Every last one of the women and their babies were seated around us. Picture a circle of babylessness and put us in the middle of it and you'll understand. And every single one of those babies did not want to be on the plane (to be fair, I felt very sorry for the parents. As I clearly am not a mother, despite my best efforts, I know it must be embarrassing to have your kid causing a ruckus on the plane. My sympathies are with the mothers, although seriously, being in a tin can with 10 screaming babies is hard to take.)

But that wasn't the worst.

The worst? We sat next to the English equivalent of the Clampetts.

I shit you not.

The mother was the sane one of the bunch. She had two adult kids with her-the son who wore a long greasy ponytail and thought a monobrow was the new black. Her husband had decided that shaving, as well as cutting his hair, went out in the late 70's, maybe earlier. His clothes were all black, and all in bad shape-I'm not knocking clothes that are comfy and have the odd hole in them, heck that's my daily wear at home-the "home" part being the key there. He weighed easily into the 300-zone, yet his jeans were made for someone in the mid-200 range.

But it was the daughter.

Oh my God.

She wore tinted specs. Tinted. Specs. And people are always saying Americans are loud, but they need to meet her. I'm pretty sure the captain on the flight deck heard her reply to the "chicken or pasta" question.

And her things were stored in the cabin over Angus' head, so when she needed something-as she did every 6-7 minutes-she stood up, reached for it...

...and her midriff revealing top showed the rivers and mounds of flesh right next to Angus' head.

Now, I'm not having a go at people who are overweight (although I'm no thin chick myself, but this is why I don't wear midriff revealing tops. I'm not thin enough for that.) I don't want someone's stomach-flat or flabby-inches from my face every few minutes. Unless that person is someone I'm shagging on a very regular basis, I don't want anyone's stomach near me. Maybe I'm weird, or not of the Playboy/Playgirl frame of mind, but stomachs freak me out (and under no circumstances are they called "bellies" or "tummies". Those words are squicky.)

So yeah. Babies crying, Spec Chick shouting and flashing us, and no leg room. Plus my remote would randomly decide that I should be tired of whatever film I was watching and would turn itself to All About Eve. I can't be sure, but I think that's a message.

When the flight finally landed-late-I stared at the Clampetts. Monoboy had decided a center part for his ponytail would accent the hairy forehead. Mom looked like she needed a drink. Spec Chick was exclaiming in her loud voice that she didn't want to fly on a long flight again ever. And Dad? He was covered in crumbs, all down his shirt front. As he stood in the queue ahead of me to get off the plane, I realized with horror that he was not, in fact, covered with crumbs.

It was dandruff, falling from him like gentle Ally Sheedy snow.

I recoiled, and thought: Dear God, they're going to have to burn the seats.

We lope to our next gate to catch our flight to Atlanta. I was so pleased to see that the Spec Chick family would not be accompanying us. We were free of them.

The babies, however, were all on our flight.

In volume.

You knew you were in for it when there was a silence. It wasn't silence. It was that moment when a baby is inhaling for God and society to launch a real ear cruncher. The pattern was: Cry, cry, cry......silence. Silence. Silence. END OF THE WORLD SCREAM. Lather, rinse, repeat.

By the end of the flight, though, the babies had passed out. One mother across from me sat there, dazed. Her baby was asleep on her, and the mom? One of her boobs was hanging out, the nipple winking at me. The mom looked down, saw the boob, realized that putting the boob away would wake the baby up, and left it.

I supported her decision.

When we landed, we felt shattered. We picked up our rental car, went to the hotel, had a glass of wine, and passed clean out.

More on Atlanta soon.

-H

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 03:22 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 1324 words, total size 7 kb.

1 Ye gods, woman... and you're still ALIVE?

Posted by: sue at November 08, 2006 04:49 PM (WbfZD)

2 I can only imagine the Spec Chick as saying, "YEAHBUTNOBUTYEAHBUTNO" all the time.

Posted by: Sir Henry at November 08, 2006 05:05 PM (KcrOI)

3 have you ever been on a flight with someone cutting their fingernails? because i have! and having been on only 3 flights in my life, i have to wonder if this is a common occurance. also, you deserve some sort of medal for putting up with all those babies crying. i would have jumped.

Posted by: geeky at November 08, 2006 05:25 PM (ziVl9)

4 I HATE flying. Hate it with a passion. Even with drugs, I can't.stop.thinking about every little bump and sound. Thank God the one Atlantic crossing flight I've been on was wonderful (I'm a big fan of Virgin because of that). I hope the visit was worth the flight.

Posted by: Donna at November 08, 2006 05:43 PM (Aanzg)

5 Wow, you're so my hero for coming out of that alive.. and for leaving your traveling companions alive as well. I probably would have OD'd on dramamine trying to knock myself out!

Posted by: Erin at November 08, 2006 05:44 PM (zw8QA)

6 Comparable to my worst day of travelling ever. But then it was a two year old who was screaming because his ears were under pressure and his mom didn't speak English so I couldn't tell her. Oh, yeah, and he threw up on me. What a day Well, you're back in your own house - enjoy it all the more, right?

Posted by: Hannah at November 08, 2006 07:43 PM (ImQx2)

7 Sorry about the crap flight but, "I recoiled, and thought: Dear God, they're going to have to burn the seats." and "You knew you were in for it when there was a silence." had me seriously laughing out loud! Fricken classic!

Posted by: Lee at November 08, 2006 10:32 PM (IptCj)

8 I love flying, and luckily I have never been on a flight like that one. If I had, I might change to one who hates flying.

Posted by: kenju at November 09, 2006 12:37 AM (L8e9z)

9 Gravity dictates that everything falls at a rate of 9.8 meters per second squared. It's one of the few things I remember from Physics. That, and f=ma. Force is mass times acceleration. So the force at which your heart slams into your ribcage would be the weight of the heart itself times 9.8 meters per second squared. And the answer is "ouch." I don't like flying either. I'm all about the CANDIES when I fly.

Posted by: Ms. Pants at November 09, 2006 03:37 PM (r6SJw)

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*Beep*

Hi! You've reached the home of Angus and Helen. We're not available, as we're jet-lagged, exhausted, fucked off, and substantially lighter in the credit department right now. But if you leave your name and number at the tone, once we've slept for 12 consecutive hours, done three loads of laundry, and figured out what to do with the twenty goddamn bottles of hot sauce Angus bought and the virtual mountain of fleecy Target socks that I call a new lover, we'll call you back. Actually, I lie. We'll most likely do what we usually do and just delete your voice mail without listening and figure if it's really really important, you'll find another way to reach us. We recommend carrier pigeon. So thanks for calling! Buh-bye!.....Uh....OK....So when does it stop recording? No, I already did push that button. See? You pushed it and nothing happened. God, I hate this fucking mach-

*Beep*

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 01:54 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 165 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Glad to see you back, and I hope you enjoyed the trip!

Posted by: amber at November 07, 2006 02:40 PM (5PLeA)

2 hehe. that makes me want to change my own message. "Hi, you've reached Geeky. Leave a message, but I probably won't call you back."

Posted by: geeky at November 07, 2006 03:04 PM (ziVl9)

3 when I had an answering machine, my message was, "leave a message, don't leave a message, whatever. I may or may not call you back." Welcome home.

Posted by: wRitErsbLock at November 07, 2006 03:10 PM (pR/bI)

4 This made me laugh out loud. Welcome home.

Posted by: april at November 07, 2006 04:28 PM (Tj2rA)

5 My cell message is, "If you know me, then you know exactly how often I check my messages." I never check them. And yet, my mother insists on leaving them. Glad you guys had safe travels.

Posted by: amy t. at November 07, 2006 05:33 PM (3dOTd)

6 Not a big fan of checking messages or returning calls either. I do, however, need a phone and, unfortunately, do have voice mail. On the other hand, if someone thinks enough of me to leave a message, I'm grateful. I have to keep myself right-sized...I'm not that important or busy to disregard their calls or messages... and hopefully I'll never think I am.

Posted by: nojo at November 07, 2006 07:44 PM (XdFfb)

7 Welcome home! I/m glad shopping was good to you. So did you get the cute stripey mary jane socks? I love those......

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 07, 2006 08:18 PM (/vgMZ)

8 Hope you enjoyed our fair country!

Posted by: kenju at November 07, 2006 11:25 PM (L8e9z)

9 I can relate to that. Glad you made it safely.

Posted by: Dana at November 08, 2006 03:08 AM (MxZ0R)

10 That was pretty funny.

Posted by: Solomon at November 08, 2006 02:46 PM (k1sTy)

11 Glad you're home... safe, if not a bit cranky...

Posted by: sue at November 08, 2006 04:45 PM (WbfZD)

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Going to the States is always a strange experience for me. I get to see the things I love (Target!, Boston Market, Mexican restaurants by the fistful, Sephora, and in case I hadn't mentioned it, Target!) I also see things I'm not crazy about. I always feel homesick. Then I don't. Then I do. Then I worship the TV a while but after a short amount of that, the worship's over (what the hell are half of these shows?)

To top it all off, the flights we're taking dump us in Detroit on the way and we're already tired by the idea, and we haven't left yet (and I'm not even going to discuss my thoughts about the flights, in case that whore Susan (hat tip reader Susan) is around and decides to send something to a shock jock blogger. I'm just saying.)

So we leave today to attend my friend's wedding.

Back Tuesday.

I'll see you then, at which point we'll be home and hitting the ground running again.

See you Tuesday.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:12 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 180 words, total size 1 kb.

1 the flights we're taking dump us in Detroit on the way and we're already tired by the idea Oh girl, I read "flights" and "Detroit" and nearly fainted from exhaustion just recalling the time I sat on the tarmac at that airport for eight fuckin' hours. Wishing you a safe, hassle-free trip full of fun and trips to Target. Wait, is that redundant? I miss my Super Target. Here I only have regular Target. Which is okay, but not the same. (And listen: If you're ever remotely nearby--I guess if you and the man get your hearts set on a trip to beautiful Juarez, Mexico--you'll give a holler, right? I got a car. Sometimes it's even got gas in it.)

Posted by: ilyka at November 02, 2006 07:56 AM (mQ53p)

2 Travel safe, get here soon, and let me know when you're available. The clan is at your disposal this weekend.

Posted by: Jim at November 02, 2006 12:48 PM (oqu5j)

3 have a great trip!

Posted by: wRitErsbLock at November 02, 2006 01:32 PM (pR/bI)

4 Have a wonderful time, and if you end up in Atlanta with time on your hands, email me!

Posted by: amber at November 02, 2006 02:10 PM (5PLeA)

5 Have a great trip! See ya when you get back...

Posted by: sue at November 02, 2006 02:34 PM (WbfZD)

6 I wish you were going to be in SF. ( Have fun though. I bet the Christmas socks are out at Target. And if they're anything like the Halloween ones, SCORE! Because those Halloween socks were like sticking your feet up a muppet's ass. I love those socks.

Posted by: statia at November 02, 2006 03:51 PM (NsnoE)

7 Bizarre - I'm flying out of Detroit tonight. On the off chance were there at the same time, could you walk around shouting "HI. I'm HELEN."?? You know, so I can say hi. Or, you know, point and laugh... ;-)

Posted by: Tracy at November 02, 2006 07:08 PM (jfil0)

8 Have a great time and be safe!

Posted by: kenju at November 02, 2006 07:14 PM (L8e9z)

9 Have a lovely trip and enjoy yourself. I will be thinking of you when I go to Target this weekend, too!

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 02, 2006 09:25 PM (PQuje)

10 Good luck, and keep in mind the U.S. TSA is still having a war!on!moisture! when it comes to security.

Posted by: mac at November 02, 2006 09:40 PM (4sb5H)

11 Hope you have a great trip. Atlanta's supposed to be nice this weekend but a bit nippy in the mornings and evenings, so bring some warm clothes. Oh yeah, enjoy the leaves changing colors, especially if you get anywhere close to the North Georgia mountains. And you shouldn't have any trouble finding Targets.

Posted by: diamond dave at November 02, 2006 10:44 PM (Batwy)

12 Have fun in Atlanta, and Dave is right: the leaves have been so beautiful this fall! Enjoy the wedding (and the Target.)

Posted by: Marian at November 02, 2006 11:13 PM (ZD4nv)

13 if you'll be in Detroit airport for very long and you're bringing a laptop, it's worth it to plunk down some change for their WIFI. I would have shot myself without it on my way home from visiting my parents this summer.

Posted by: girl at November 03, 2006 03:07 PM (z6Kyx)

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Unfortunately, today is also lining up to be a hectic day. The kids are still here (they leave tomorrow, as do we) and there are one hundred thousand things to do. Yesterday I accumulated several hundred emails, but instead of actually being productive work-wise, Jeff and I spent the afternoon working on a puzzle and then watching Elf (am I the only one who laughs with insane immature laughter at that film? Really?)

It seemed the thing to do.

There goes the career, then.

I've mentioned Maggie and Mumin recently, and they're on my mind. Both of them are hurtling towards being 8 years old. Mumin wants to be outside constantly, and only wants to come in late evening. I've no idea what she gets up to, but like a slightly nutty over-protective mother, I worry about foxes getting hold of her.

As we live in a rural area, the foxes are indeed a big threat-one night this summer we were sleeping when we heard screaming. Absolute, hideous, terrified screaming. It was horrifying. We grabbed flashligths (torches) and looked outside frantically to see what was going on-surprisingly, it wasn't a woman being tied to train tracks, someone withnessing the results of a home perm, or a remake of Halloween-it was a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox. The fox dashed away with its terrorized prey, but I just couldn't believe it until a neighbor confirmed it-rabbits can scream when frightened. They scream.

I'll never forget that one.

So that's the Mumin worry then.

Maggie is a little bit more.

Maggie has never, ever been a friendly cat. On occasion she'll deign to sit on your lap for a while, but it's on her terms, always. She used to be my ex's cat and preferred him over all. Now, she prefers me, but only just. She and Mumin-once incredibly, fascinatingly close-now have nothing to do with each other. Apparently, I am hosting Nicole and Paris in the house, only not getting any commission.

But it's not that which has me worried-lately (past few months) Maggie has crossed from unfriendly cat-like behavior to being psychotic. She'll fly at people when they visit, without provocation. Angus' kids know to sidestep her, as she hisses and tries to pop them with her paws. I know it's not that Angus' kids have ever mistreated her-they absolutely would never do that as they're both mad about pets. It is true that Maggie once had a bad experience with kids, but she didn't mind them after that occasion. It's also true that Maggie had a bad experience with a kid earlier this summer (remember Erica? The 4 year old? Yeah. She tried to drag Maggie by her arms and got scratched as a thank you. While I applied a Band-Aid, I silently thought that Maggie defending herself was a good idea.)

But it's not just kids-Maggie no longer likes anyone but Angus or I. She's openly hostile and unpleasant, and her target is children. I worry about this, and have spoken to the vet who assured me that it's likely just age getting to Maggie. My little girl just isn't so little. My worries are that she'll get worse with children, to the point that maybe sometime Angus' ex complains (because she'll have a go at him about anything related to me.) If that happens...well, I don't know what will happen.

My little girl is unhappy and I don't know how to fix it.

So in the midst of what I should be doing (working, cleaning up, packing, puzzles) I stopped, shut the bedroom door, and she and I laid in the sun and relaxed for a while.

It's not much, but for now, it's what I can give her to tell her that I love her.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:54 AM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
Post contains 647 words, total size 4 kb.

1 Maybe you should get Maggie some kitty prozac. She is just getting ornery in her old age. It's just like with people. Sometimes as they grow older they get crotchety and cross. Others start out that way and then mellow out. I've seen both cases in people as well as animals. My Zoe has always had the best disposition. She's shy with people initially and then once she gets used to their presence being in her domain she is very loving and affectionate and in constant need of attention. I adopted her, so for the first year of her life she lived outdoors until I got her. For the past 7 1/2 years she has been a strictly indoor cat. I am lucky that she has never once wanted to leave the house. In fact, I'm sure I could leave the door wide open (and have) & she would never even attempt to venture out. So I understand your concerns with Mumin. I would be terrified for Zoe. At least Mumin is seasoned to the outdoors and I'm sure (he/she?) will be able to take care of himself or herself.

Posted by: kimmykins13 at November 01, 2006 02:40 PM (QW8XY)

2 Hi -- lurker here, de-lurking. Did the vet actually see Maggie, or was it a telephone enquiry? Sometimes physical illnesses can result in crankiness, just like in humans, and in aged cats, hyperthyroidism and renal problems can be issues. There's Clomicalm for dogs, and I think there has been documented usage in cats, but I'm not sure if there is a proper drug equivalent for cats. Still, drugging kitty for the rest of her life isn't a great option, although it's an option nonetheless. On a slightly separate note, I've seen a bunny cry out, once, and he died a few hours after. It's very primal and disconcerting. Okay, that's all. Just thought I'd write a little about the animals. I do love your writing, and, um, this is getting awkward now, so I'll stop.

Posted by: J. at November 01, 2006 03:34 PM (uJa00)

3 Hi, this is Ms. Pants, what's your favourite colour?! :-p Rabbits do indeed howl when terrified or in pain. It's horrific. I learned about that when reading about cosmetics testing on animals (mainly rabbits) which I certainly don't recommend unless you'd like to spend the next 24 hours alternating between wracking sobs and vomiting. That's why I figure we should leave the little creatures alone. Bunnies don't need mascara. Let's do all cosmetic testing on child predators. They're technically human which is who will be using the end product. Why not just start with the right testing subject? As for the kitty--I hate to say it, but the introduction of Gorby might also be a factor. If you think about it, a dog is relativley child-sized. She might associate him with little wretched, unbehaved children. (Read: not your steps.) The kitty prozac might be a good idea if it gets worse and worse, but I'd say to keep trying to make one-on-one time with her. It might help. And 8 is pretty young for cats now, I'm finding. Bel is about 10 and still very kitteny at times. Goobers lived to be 19.

Posted by: Ms. Pants at November 01, 2006 03:40 PM (r6SJw)

4 No, you are NOT the only one who laughs at _Elf_. It's on our list of "must-see" Christmas DVD's right alongside _It's A Wonderful Life_ and _A Christmas Story_ In fact, our holiday greeting on the call-notes is "Buddy the Elf! What's your favorite color?". Will Farrell just cracks me up. Always has, and (hopefully) always will.

Posted by: ~Easy at November 01, 2006 04:43 PM (jNXlM)

5 Boy, do I know the howling bunny terror. My cat brought her little prize into the house ... still alive, blood, guts and all. So, after carefully removing the little critter from the jaws of the beast, we place him in a soft towel, box him up and tote him to the wild animal refuge. After driving nearly an hour with this shivering bunny, the shelter's learned guru 60's type volunteer blasts me for, almost certainly, killing this wild creature by too much handling ...Needless to say, I put a $20 bill in their donation box.

Posted by: nojo at November 01, 2006 04:45 PM (MAluk)

6 One more thing, H ... cats will be cats. And, P.S.: I enjoy your posts so much.. thanks.

Posted by: nojo at November 01, 2006 04:50 PM (MAluk)

7 I do think I need to take her in to see a vet. Maybe it's nothing, but she should have some attention. Angus will say I'm over-reacting, but... I do worry that Gorby has been a factor, too. Maggie used to be mates with her former Dog-Mate, Ed. These days, although Mumin and Gorby are besties, Maggie likes to deliver a decided pop to Gorby whenever the fancy takes her (Gorby is the subject of Maggie. We all are.) My poor baby. And I am absolutely going to be answering the phone that way. "Hi, this is Helen, what's your favorite color?" I nearly wet myself at that scene. That, and him putting the star on the tree? Those scenes got watched, re-wound, and watched again time after time. I'm so childish.

Posted by: Helen at November 01, 2006 05:22 PM (X98QV)

8 The experience with the yanking could have had more of an effect than you realized. I mean she is an older cat, and getting her paws and shoulders yanked like that would hurt a lot more. She could have been sore/tender from that (or something else that kid might have done that you just didnt see) for a long time, or even just have a touch of arthritis. Her aggression could partially just be that she can't tell you that she is hurting. Also, her life has changed a LOT in the last year. She went from having a quiet life with you and Angus, to a new house, a dog, and suddenly lots of people coming over as you are entertaining more. Since a couple of those strangers chase her and yank her and hit her and the dog, she has no way of knowing anymore when she is safe and when she is not. Everything in her world has changed, and it sounds more like she is frightened than just being old and cranky. She has no way of telling you any of this, and maybe she is also confused about you. I mean, because you are there with the groups of strangers and the scary neice and the dog. The things that have hurt/scared her recently have also always had you somewhere in the picture. That has got to be confusing and distressing. She used to have you pretty much all to herself, now nothing in her world is for certain anymore. Even though Angus's children are kind, they are visiting more often and that is new. I would imagine that the household is different when they are visiting than when it's just the two of you, that can also be stressful and confusing..escpecially after spending the first 7 years of her life in a pretty quiet household, where it was mostly just you and one other person, and i'm assuming the environment was fairly consistent with not a whole lot of drastic changes. The other cat has the escape of the outdoors, but this one wants to be inside, which must be harder. Maybe the agression you are seeing in them recently is simply because they no longer feel secure, and everything is a little bit scary when it never used to be, and they never know what change/event the next day may bring. I think if you are able to make some quiet time with her like you did today as often as possible, even for short periods, she will begin to feel secure again. And she will associate that whenever you are in the room, everything is okay and she is safe- instead of focusing on what appears to her as unexpected chaos with strangers in her home. I'm sure she loves you and you have been her world her whole life..she is just not understanding why anything had to change. And she doesnt know what will happen to her in the midst of it all. This has been my experience, at least... so I thought I would just offer it as food for thought.

Posted by: hd at November 01, 2006 06:06 PM (4dWnl)

9 Kitty prozac might be a good idea, but you have to remember that the kitty girls have been under a lot of stress in the last year, a new dog-brother, and a new house, and all the new and moved things in the house. And don't discount your own stress. They can sense that too. Perhaps you should just let the girly have a little more time to get used to things and see what happens, if she chills out any. Maybe a little "normal time" would be a good thing for all of yous.

Posted by: caltechgirl at November 01, 2006 06:58 PM (/vgMZ)

10 Hee hee! That's my favorite Elf line too! I also laugh like a crazy person at it so don't feel ashamed. Poor Maggie. I don't pretend to have kitty advice - I'm relatively new to having cats, having always been more of a dog person. But maybe the vet can provide some assistance so you don't have to worry about her attitude getting her and you in trouble!

Posted by: donna at November 01, 2006 07:45 PM (xmUU6)

11 The bunny thing? Yeah... it's horrific. Been there, done that. The kitty? We just do what we can. Everyone seems to have some good offerings for you. I'll just wish you good luck with it all...

Posted by: sue at November 01, 2006 10:02 PM (WbfZD)

12 Hmmmm, maybe she IS jealous of Mumin and Gorby, and feeling left out. It is bad when a pet begins to act hostile to anyone, but especially to children. When my grandkids come, my cats hide under the beds. After they leave, the cats come out and sit on me for hours. They seem to be jealous when I give any attention to the children. Maybe Maggie is jealous of your time, jealous of Gorby and Mumin and jealous that Gorby is there at all.

Posted by: kenju at November 02, 2006 04:50 AM (L8e9z)

13 There's this stuff called Feliway. It's like a glade plugin air freshener, but releases happy cat hormones instead. Worked well with our stressed cat. Just plug in near where she likes to hang out. It might work. Also, buy some Bach Rescue Remedy. I'll be honest I think Bach flower remedies are total rubbish, BUT I have seen success with them. You'd just add drops to the drinking water. Might was well try it eh? I think the feliway would be a good investment. Isn't cheap, but happy cats = good.

Posted by: dani at November 02, 2006 06:16 AM (tsq+l)

14 Two things: 1. I love Elf as well - I think because I can so relate to being the tallest person in the room who wants to hug and squeeze everyone....It's been an awkward life that way. 2. I also love how much you care for your cats. Particularly on this day when I've been dealing with someone who believes its ok to harm cats ( some of the work I do is for a stray cat advocacy group) - anyway - glad you're in the world.

Posted by: gigi at November 02, 2006 06:43 AM (iiCpA)

15 I agree with the feliway. It works like a plug-in...you can order it cheapest through jefferspet.com, but I'm not sure how the whole international shipping thing would work. Probably cheapest to get it locally. Anyhow, I use it for my four cats (plus the roommate's - so five total) and it works wonders. In fact, I don't EVER go without it. Before you take any medicinal action, I would attempt this first. Also, feliway has a spray that kiddos could spray on their clothing to reduce kitty's anxiety. Just a thought. Feliway works with phermones...it's an AWESOME product. I swear by the stuff. Try it for a coupla months and see if you note any difference in her behavior.

Posted by: Dana at November 05, 2006 02:29 PM (MxZ0R)

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